S/"1  A  Ts  ? 
,  LAKL 


7J- 


THE  LA  CHANCE  MINE  MYSTERY 


,  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


I  STOOD  UP  AND  DROVE  FOR  ALL  I  WAS  WORTH,   AND  THE  (JI1M. 
BESIDE  ME  SHOT, — AND  HIT !"      FRONTISPIECE.     See  page  76. 


THE  LA  CHANCE 
MINE  MYSTERY 


WITH   FRONTISPIECE  BY 

GEORGE  W.  GAGE 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 
1920 


Copyright,  1920, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 

All  rights  reserved 
Published  March,  1920 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     I    COME   HOME:    AND  THE  WOLVES 

HOWL i 

II.  MY  DREAM:  AND  DUDLEY'S  GIRL        .  16 

III.  DUDLEY'S  MINE  :  AND  DUDLEY'S  GOLD  30 

IV.  THE  MAN  IN  THE  DARK       ...  46 
V.    THE     CARAQUET    ROAD  :    AND    THE 

WOLVES  HOWL  ONCE  MORE  .        .      56 
VI.    MOSTLY  WOLVES  :  AND  A  GIRL    ,        .71 
VII.     I     FIND    LITTLE     ENOUGH     ON    THE 
CORDUROY    ROAD,    AND    LESS    AT 
SKUNK'S  MISERY     ....      86 

VIII.     THOMPSON! 100 

IX.    TATIANA  PAULINA  VALENKA  !       .        .116 
X.     I  INTERFERE  FOR  THE  LAST  TIME         .     1 34 
XL     MACARTNEY  HEARS  A  NOISE  :   AND  I 

FIND  FOUR  DEAD  MEN  .        .        .148 
XII.     THOMPSON'S     CARDS:    AND    SKUNK'S 

MISERY 164 

XIII.  A  DEAD  MAN'S  MESSENGER          .        .182 

XIV.  WOLVES — AND  DUDLEY        .        .        .199 
XV.    THE  PLACE  OF  DEPARTED  SPIRITS        .    218 

XVI.  IN  COLLINS'S  CARE       ....  231 

XVII.  HIGH  EXPLOSIVE          ....  247 

XVIII.  LAC  TREMBLANT          •.        .        .        .  265 

XIX.  SKUNK'S  MISERY 283 

XX.  THE  END 293 


2126280 


• 


THE  LA  CHANCE 
MINE  MYSTERY 

CHAPTER  I 

I  COME  HOME :  AND  THE  WOLVES  HOWL 

I  am  sick  of  the  bitter  wood-smoke, 
And  sick  of  the  wind  and  rain  : 

I  will  leave  the  bush  behind  me, 
And  look  for  my  love  again. 

LITTLE  as  I  guessed  it,  this  story  really  be- 
gan at  Skunk's  Misery.  But  Skunk's  Misery 
was  the  last  thing  in  my  head,  though  I  had 
just  come  from  the  place. 

Hungry,  dog-tired,  cross  with  the  crossness 
of  a  man  in  authority  whose  orders  have  been 
forgotten  or  disregarded,  I  drove  Billy  Jones's 
old  canoe  across  Lac  Tremblant  on  my  way 
home  to  Dudley  Wilbraham's  gold  mine  at 
La  Chance,  after  an  absence  of  months.  It 
was  halfway  to  dark,  and  the  bitter  November 
wind  blew  dead  in  my  teeth.  Slaps  of  spray 
from  flying  wave-crests  blinded  me  with  gouts 
of  lake  water,  that  was  oddly  warm  till  the  cut- 
ting wind  froze  it  to  a  coating  of  solid  ice  on 


2       The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

my  bare  hands  and  stinging  face,  that  I  had  to 
keep  dabbing  on  my  paddling  shoulder  to  get 
my  eyes  clear  in  order  that  I  might  stare  in 
front  of  my  leaky,  borrowed  canoe. 

To  a  stranger  there  might  have  seemed  to 
be  nothing  particular  to  stare  at,  out  on  a  lake 
where  the  world  was  all  wind  and  lumpy  seas 
and  growing  November  twilight ;  but  any  one 
who  had  lived  at  La  Chance  knew  better.  By 
the  map  Lac  Tremblant  should  have  been  our 
nearest  gold  route  to  civilization,  but  it  was  a 
lake  that  was  no  lake,  as  far  as  transport  was 
concerned,  and  we  never  used  it.  The  five- 
mile  crossing  I  was  making  was  just  a  fair 
sample  of  the  forty  miles  of  length  Lac  Trem- 
blant stretched  mockingly  past  the  La  Chance 
mine  toward  the  main  road  from  Caraquet — 
our  nearest  settlement — to  railhead:  and  that 
was  forty  miles  of  queer  water,  sown  with 
rocks  that  were  sometimes  visible  as  tomb- 
stones in  a  cemetery  and  sometimes  hidden  like 
rattlesnakes  in  a  blanket.  For  the  depth  of 
Lac  Tremblant,  or  its  fairway,  were  two  things 
no  man  might  ever  count  on.  It  would  fall  in 
a  night  to  shallows  a  child  could  wade  through, 
among  bristling  needles  of  rocks  no  one  had 
ever  guessed  at;  and  rise  in  a  morning  to  the 
tops  of  the  spruce  scrub  on  its  banks, — a  sweet 
spread  of  water  with  not  a  rock  to  be  seen. 
What  hidden  spring  fed  it  was  a  mystery. 


I  Come  Home  3 

But  in  the  bitterest  winter  it  was  never 
cold  enough  to  freeze,  further  than  to  form 
surging  masses  of  frazil  ice  that  would  neither 
let  a  canoe  push  through  them,  nor  yet  sup- 
port the  weight  of  a  man.  Winter  or  summer, 
it  was  no  thoroughfare — and  neither  was  the 
ungodly  jumble  of  swamp  and  mountains  that 
stopped  me  from  tapping  the  lower  end  of  it — 
or  I  should  not  have  spent  the  last  three 
months  in  making  fifty  miles  of  road  through 
untrodden  bush  to  Caraquet,  over  which  to 
transport  the  La  Chance  gold  to  a  post-road 
and  a  railway:  and  it  was  no  chosen  return 
route  of  mine  to  La  Chance  now,  either. 

If  I  could  draw  you  a  map  I  should  not 
have  to  explain  the  country.  But  failing  that 
I  will  be  as  clear  as  I  can. 

The  line  of  Lac  Tremblant,  and  that  of  the 
road  I  had  just  made  from  Caraquet  to  La 
Chance,  ran  away  from  each  other  in  two  sides 
of  a  triangle, — except  that  the  La  Chance 
mine  was  five  miles  down  the  far  side  of  the 
lake  from  Caraquet,  and  my  road  had  to  half- 
moon  round  the  head  of  Lac  Tremblant  to  get 
home — a  lavish  curve,  too,  by  reason  of 
swamps. 

But  it  was  on  that  half-moon  road  that  I 
should  have  been  now,  if  my  order  to  have  a 
horse  meet  me  at  the  Halfway  stables  I  had 
built  at  the  beginning  of  it  had  not  been  for- 


4       The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery- 
gotten  or  disregarded  by  some  one  at  La 
Chance. 

Getting  drenched  to  the  skin  with  lake  water 
was  no  rattling  good  exchange  for  riding  home 
on  a  fresh  horse  that  felt  like  a  warm  stove 
under  me,  but  a  five-mile  short  cut  across  the 
apex  of  the  road  and  lake  triangle  was  better 
than  walking  twenty-two  miles  along  the  side 
of  it  on  my  own  legs — which  was  the  only 
choice  I  had  had  in  the  matter. 

I  was  obliged  to  get  home,  for  reasons  of 
my  own ;  but  when  I  walked  in  on  Billy  Jones, 
the  foreman  at  the  Halfway  stables,  that  after- 
noon, after  months  of  absence  and  road-mak- 
ing, there  was  not  even  a  team  horse  in  his 
stables,  let  alone  my  own  saddle  mare.  There 
was  not  a  soul  about  the  place,  either,  but  Billy 
himself,  blandly  idle  and  sprawling  over  a 
grubby  old  newspaper  in  front  of  the  stove  in 
his  shack. 

His  welcome  was  heartening,  but  his  intelli- 
gence was  not.  No  one  had  told  him  a  word 
about  me  or  my  mare,  he  informed  me  pro- 
fanely; also  that  it  was  quite  impossible  for 
me  to  ride  over  to  La  Chance  that  night. 
There  were  not  any  work  horses  at  the  Half- 
way, because  he  had  doubled  up  the  teams  for 
some  heavy  hauling  from  Caraquet,  according 
to  my  orders  sent  over  from  Caraquet  the 
week  before,  and  no  horses  had  been  sent  back 


I  Come  Home  5 

from  La  Chance  since.  He  guessed  affably 
that  some  one  might  be  driving  over  from  the 
mine  in  the  morning,  and  that  after  tramping 
from  Caraquet  I  had  better  stay  where  I  was 
for  the  night. 

I  hesitated.  I  was  dog-tired  for  once  in 
my  life,  but  I  had  not  done  any  tramp  from 
Caraquet  that  day,  if  I  had  told  the  bald  truth. 
Only  I  had  no  idea  of  telling  it,  nor  any  wish 
to  explain  to  Billy  Jones  that  I  had  been  mak- 
ing a  fool  of  myself  elsewhere,  doing  a  solid 
week  of  hospital  nursing  over  a  filthy  boy  I 
had^  found  on  my  just-finished  road  the  morn- 
ing I  had  realty  left  Caraquet.  From  the 
look  of  him  I  guessed  he  had  got  hurt  cutting 
down  a  tree  and  not  getting  out  of  the  way  in 
time,  though  he  was  past  telling  me  that  or 
anything  else.  But  I  had  also  guessed  where 
he  lived,  by  the  dirt  on  him,  and  was  ass 
enough  to  carry  him  home  to  the  squalid,  half- 
French,  half-Indian  village  the  Caraquet  peo- 
ple called  Skunk's  Misery. 

It  lay  in  the  bush,  in  a  slanting  line  between 
Caraquet  and  Lac  Tremblant :  a  nest  of  thrift- 
less evil  stuck  in  a  hollow  you  might  pass 
within  twenty  yards  of,  and  never  guess  held  a 
house.  Once  there  I  had  no  choice  but  to  stay 
and  nurse  the  boy's  sickening  pain,  till  his 
mother  came  home  from  some  place  where  she 
was  fishing  eels  for  the  winter;  for  none  of 


6       The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

the  rest  of  the  population  of  fat-faced,  indif- 
ferent women — I  never  saw  a  man,  whether 
they  were  away  in  the  lumber  woods  or  not— 
would  lay  a  hand  on  him.  I  will  say  plainly 
that  I  was  more  than  thankful  to  hand  him  over 
to  his  mother.  I  had  spilt  over  myself  a  bottle 
of  some  nameless  and  abominable  brew  that 
I'd  mistaken  for  liniment,  and  my  clothes 
smelt  like  carrion;  also  the  lean-to  I  had  lived 
in  was  so  dirty  that  I  scratched  from  suspicion 
all  day  long,  except  when  I  was  yawning  from 
a  week  of  hardly  closing  my  eyes.  Altogether, 
as  I  said,  I  was  dog-tired,  if  it  were  not  from 
walking,  and  I  might  have  stayed  at  Billy 
Jones's  if  I  had  not  been  crazy  to  get  rid  of 
my  dirt-infected  clothes.  The  worst  reek  had 
gone  from  them,  but  even  out  in  the  open  air 
they  smelt.  I  saw  Billy  Jones  wrinkle  up  his 
nose  to  sniff  innocently  while  he  talked  to  me, 
and  that  settled  me. 

!<  I  have  to  get  home,"  I  observed  hastily. 
"  Wilbraham  expected  me  a  week  ago.  But 
I  don't  walk  any  twenty- two  miles!  I'll  take 
your  old  canoe  and  a  short  cut  across  the  lake." 

I  was  the  only  man  who  ever  used  Lac 
Tremblant,  and  the  foreman  of  the  Halfway 
stables  cast  a  glance  on  me.  "  If  it  was  me, 
I'd  walk,"  he  remarked  drily.  "  But  take 
your  choice.  The  lake's  a  short  cut  right 
enough,  only  I  wouldn't  say  where  to — in  my 


I  Come  Home  7 

crazy  old  birchbark  this  kind  of  a  blowing-up 
evening! " 

That,  and  a  few  more  things  he  said  as  he 
squinted  a  weather-wise  eye  on  the  lake,  came 
back  to  me  as  I  fought  his  old  canoe  through 
the  water.  And  fighting  it  was,  mind  you, 
for  the  spray  hid  the  rocks  I  knew,  and  the 
wind  shoved  me  back  on  the  ones  I  didn't 
know.  Also  the  canoe  was  leaking  till  she  was 
dead  logy,  and  the  gusts  were  so  fierce  I  could 
not  stop  paddling  to  bail  her.  The  short, 
vicious  seas  that  snapped  at  me  five  ways  at 
once  were  the  color  of  lead  and  felt  as  heavy 
as  cold  molasses.  But,  for  all  that,  crossing 
Lac  Tremblant  was  saving  me  twenty-two 
miles  on  my  feet,  and  I  was  not  wasting  any 
dissatisfaction  on  the  traverse.  Only,  as  I 
shoved  the  canoe  forward,  I  was  nearer  to  be- 
ing played  out,  from  one  thing  on  top  of  an- 
other, than  ever  I  was  in  my  life.  I  pretended 
the  paddle  that  began  to  hang  in  spite  of  me 
was  only  heavy  with  freezing  spray  and  that 
the  dead  ache  in  my  back  was  a  kink.  But  I 
had  to  put  every  ounce  there  was  in  my  six  feet 
of  weary  bones  into  lightning-change  wrenches 
to  hold  the  old  canoe  head  on  to  the  splattering 
seas  and  keep  her  from  swamping.  I  was  very 
near  to  thinking  I  had  been  a  fool  not  to  have 
stayed  with  Billy  Jones, — when  I  was  sud- 
denly aware  of  absolute,  utter  calm  in  the 


8       The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

air  that  felt  as  warm  on  my  face  as  if  I'd  gone 
into  a  house ;  of  tranquil  water  under  the  fore- 
foot of  the  canoe  that  had  jumped  forward 
under  me  as  the  resistance  of  the  wind  ceased ; 
and  of  the  lake  shore — dark,  featureless,  si- 
lent— within  twenty  feet  of  me.  I  was  across 
Lac  Tremblant  and  in  the  shelter  of  the  La 
Chance  shore! 

There  is  no  good  in  denying  that  for  five 
minutes  all  I  did  was  to  sit  back  and  breathe. 
Then  I  lit  my  pipe,  that  was  dry  because  it 
was  inside  my  shirt;  bailed  the  unnecessary 
water  out  of  the  canoe  and  the  immediate 
neighborhood  of  my  legs;  and,  without  mean- 
ing to,  turned  a  casual  eye  on  the  shore  at  my 
right  hand. 

It  might  have  been  because  I  was  tired,  but 
that  shore  struck  me  as  if  I  had  never  seen  it 
before;  and  on  a  November  evening  it  was  not 
an  inviting  prospect.  Bush  and  bush,  and 
more  bush,  grew  down  to  the  very  verge  of 
the  water  in  a  mass  that  spoke  of  heavy  swamp 
and  no  landing.  Behind  that,  I  knew,  was  ris- 
ing land,  country  rock,  and  again  swamp  and 
more  swamp, — and  all  of  it  harsh,  ugly,  and 
inhospitable.  But  the  queer  thought  that 
came  over  me  was  that  it  was  more  than  in- 
hospitable: it  was  forbidding.  High  over  my 
head  poured  the  bitter  wind  in  a  river  of  sound 
through  the  bare  tree  tops;  close  at  hand  it 


I  Come  Home  9 

rustled  with  a  flurry  of  dead  leaves  that  was 
uncannily  like  the  bustle  of  inimical  businesses 
pursued  insolently  in  the  dark,  at  my  very 
elbow;  and  suddenly,  through  and  over  all 
other  sounds,  there  rose  in  the  harsh  gloom  the 
long,  ravening  cry  of  a  wolf. 

Heaven  knows  I  was  used  to  the  bush,  and 
no  howling  was  much  to  me ;  but  you  know  how 
things  come  over  you  sometimes.  It  came  over 
me  then  that  I  was  sick  of  my  life  at  La 
Chance ;  sick  of  working  with  Wilbraham  and 
sicker  still  of  washing  myself  in  brooks  and 
sleeping  on  the  ground, — for  I  had  not  been  in 
a  house  since  August.  Before  I  knew  it  I  was 
speaking  out  loud  as  men  do  in  books,  only  it 
was  something  I  had  thought  before,  which  in 
books  it  generally  isn't:  "  Scott,  I'm  a  fool  to 
stay  here.  I'd  sooner  go  and  work  on  day's 
wages  somewhere  and  have  a  place  to  go  home 
to! ".  And  then  I  felt  my  face  get  red  in  the 
dark,  for  I  knew  what  I  meant,  if  you  do  not. 

There  was  nothing  to  go  home  to  at  Wil- 
braham's,  except  a  roof  over  my  head,  till  cir- 
cumstances sent  me  out  into  the  bush  again. 
In  the  daytime  there  were  the  mine  and  the 
mill.  At  night  there  was  the  bare  living  room 
of  Wilbraham's  shack,  without  a  book,  or  a 
paper,  or  a  decent  chair;  Wilbraham  himself, 
fat,  pig-headed,  truculent,  stumping  the 
devil's  sentry-go  up  and  down  the  bare  floor, 


10     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

talking  eternally  about  himself  and  the  mine, 
till  a  saint  must  have  loathed  the  two  of  them ; 
Thompson,  the  mine  superintendent,  silent, 
slow  and  stupid,  playing  ghastly  solitaire 
games  in  a  corner  with  a  pack  of  dirty  cards; 
and  me,  Nick  Stretton,  hunching  myself 
irritably  on  a  hard  chair  till  I  could  decently 
go  to  bed.  Even  the  bush  was  better  than 
night  after  night  of  that, — and  suddenly  I 
felt  my  thoughts  bursting  out,  even  if  I  had 
sense  enough  to  keep  my  mouth  shut. 

I  was  as  sick  of  the  bush  as  I  was  of  the 
shack.  I  wanted  a  place  of  my  own  and  a  life 
of  my  own:  and  I  was  going  to  have  it.  There 
was  nothing  but  old  friendship  to  tie  me  to 
Wilbraham's;  I  could  do  as  well  anywhere 
else,  and  I  was  going  there — to-morrow;  go- 
ing somewhere,  anyhow,  so  that  when  my  day's 
work  was  over  I  could  go  home  to  a  blazing 
fire  on  a  wide  hearth,  instead  of  Wilbraham's 
smelly  stove  where  no  one  ever  cleaned  the 
creosote  out  of  the  pipe, — and  where  the  girl  I 
had  had  in  my  head  for  ten  years  would  be 
waiting  for  me. 

Don't  imagine  it  was  any  girl  I  knew  that 
I  was  thinking  of;  it  was  just  a  dream  girl  I 
meant  to  marry,  when  I  found  her.  I'd  never 
met  such  a  girl  anywhere,  and  it  sounds  like  a 
fool  to  say  I  knew  I  was  going  to  meet  her: 
that  she  was  waiting  somewhere  in  the  world 


I  Come  Home  u 

for  me,  just  as  I  was  looking  for  her.  I  knew 
exactly  what  she  must  be  like.  She  would 
have  that  waving  bronze-gold  hair  that  stands 
out  in  little  separate,  shining  tendrils;  eyes 
that  startled  you  with  their  clear  blue  under 
dark,  level  eyebrows — I  never  look  twice  at  a 
girl  with  arched  brows — the  rose-white,  satin- 
smooth  skin  that  goes  with  all  of  them,  and  she 
would  move  like Well,  you've  seen  Pav- 
lova move!  Her  voice — somehow  one  of  the 
most  important  things  I  knew  about  her  seemed 
to  be  her  voice — would  be  the  clear,  carrying 
kind  that  always  sounds  gay.  I  was  certain  I 
should  know  my  dream  girl — first — by  that. 
And  that  was  the  girl — I  forgot  it  was  all 
made-up  child's  play — who  somewhere  in  the 
world  was  waiting  for  me,  Nick  Stretton;  a 
fool  with  nothing  on  earth  but  six  feet  of  a 
passably  good  body,  'and  a  dark,  high-nosed 
face  like  an  Indian's,  who  was  working  in  the 
bush  for  Wilbraham  instead  of  sieving  creation 
for  her.  Well,  I  would  start  to-morrow ;  and, 
where  the  clean  heavens  meant  me  to,  I  should 
find  her! 

And  with  the  words  I  came  alive  to  the 
dark  lake,  and  the  leaky  canoe  I  sat  in,  and 
the  knowledge  that  all  I  had  been  thinking 
about  a  bronze-haired  girl  was  just  the  cracked 
dream  of  a  lonely  man.  Even  if  it  had  not 
been,  and  I  could  have  started  to  look  for  a 


12      The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

real  girl  to-morrow,  I  had  to  get  back  to  Wil- 
braham's  to-night.  My  drenched  clothes  were 
freezing  on  me,  and  I  was  hungrier  than  the 
wolf  who  had  just  howled  again,  as  I  picked 
up  my  slippery  paddle  and  started  for  the  La 
Chance  landing. 

There  was  no  light  there,  naturally,  since  no 
one  ever  used  the  lake  except  myself,  and  I 
had  been  away  for  months;  but  as  I  rounded 
the  point  between  the  canoe  and  the  landing, 
and  slipped  into  the  dark  of  its  shadow,  the 
lamplight  from  Wilbraham's  living  room  shone 
out  on  me  in  a  narrow  beam,  like  a  moon  path 
on  the  water.  As  I  crossed  it  and  beached  the 
canoe  I  must  have  been  in  plain  sight  to  any 
one  on  the  shore,  though  all  I  saw  was  the  dark 
shingle  I  stepped  upon.  I  stooped  to  lift  the 
canoe  out  of  water, — and  I  did  what  you  mean 
when  you  say  you  nearly  jumped  out  of  your 
skin. 

Touching  my  shoulder,  her  hand  fiercely 
imperative  in  the  dark,  was  a  girl — at  La 
Chance,  where  no  girl  had  ever  set  foot ! — and 
she  was  speaking  to  me  with  just  that  golden, 
carrying  voice  I  knew  would  belong  to  my 
own  dream  girl,  if  she  were  keeping  it  down 
to  a  whisper. 

"  So  you're  here,"  was  what  she  said;  and 
it  would  have  fitted  in  with  the  fool's  thoughts 
I  had  just  come  out  of,  if  it  had  not  been  for 


I  Come  Home  13 

her  tone.  That  startled  me,  till  all  I  could  do 
was  to  nod  in  the  dark  I  could  just  see  her  in. 
I  could  not  discern  what  she  looked  like,  for 
her  head  was  muffled  in  a  shawl;  and  I  never 
realized  that  all  she  could  see  of  me  was  my 
height  and  general  make-up,  since  my  face 
must  have  been  invisible  where  I  stood  in  the 
shadow. 

"  You ! "  her  golden  voice  stabbed  like  a 
dagger.  "  I  won't  have  you  staying  here — 
where  I  am!  I  told  you  I'd  speak  to  you 
when  I  could,  and  I'm  speaking.  You  kept 
your  word  and  disgraced  me  once,  if  I  don't 
know  how  you  did  it;  but  I  won't  run  the 
chance  of  that  again  1  I'm  safe  here,  except 
for  you;  and  you've  got  to  let  me  alone.  If 

you  don't,  I — I "  she  stammered  till  I 

knew  she  was  shaking,  but  she  got  hold  of  her- 
self in  the  second.  *  You  won't  find  it  safe  to 
play  any  tricks  with  the  gold  here — or  me — if 
that's  what  you  came  for,"  she  said  superbly, 
"  and  you've  given  me  a  way  to  stop  it.  That's 
why  I've  sneaked  out  to  meet  you :  not  because 
I  care  for  you.  You  must  go  away,  or — I'll 
tell  that  you're  here!  Do  you  hear?  I  don't 
care  what  promises  you  make  me — they  al- 
ways came  easily  to  you.  If  you  want  me  to 
hold  my  tongue  about  you,  you've  got  to  go. 
Go  and  betray  me,  if  you  like — but  go! " 

There  was  dead,  cold  hatred  in  it,  the  kind 


14     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

a  woman  has  for  a  man  she  once  cared  for,  and 
it  staggered  what  wits  I  had  left.  I  nodded 
like  a  fool,  just  as  if  I  had  known  what  she  was 
talking  about,  and  went  on  lifting  the  canoe 
ashore.  Whether  I  really  heard  her  give  a 
terrified  gasp  I  don't  know;  perhaps  I  only 
thought  so.  But  as  I  put  the  canoe  on  the 
bank  I  heard  a  rustle,  and  when  I  looked  up 
she  was  gone.  There  was  nothing  to  tell  me 
she  had  really  even  been  there.  It  was  just  as 
probable  that  I  was  crazy,  or  walking  in  my 
sleep,  as  that  a  girl  who  talked  like  that — or 
e^en  any  kind  of  a  girl — should  be  at  La 
Chance.  The  cold,  collected  hatred  in  her 
voice  still  jarred  me,  since  it  was  no  way  for 
even  a  dream  girl  to  speak.  But  what  jarred 
me  worse  was  that  the  whole  thing  had  been 
so  quick  I  could  not  have  sworn  she  had  been 
there  at  all.  I  was  honestly  dazed  as  I  walked 
up  the  rough  path  to  Wilbraham's  and  my 
shack.  I  must  have  stood  in  front  of  it  a  good 
five  minutes,  with  my  wet  clothes  freezing  as 
hard  as  a  board,  and  the  noise  of  the  men  in  the 
bunk  house  down  by  the  mine  coming  up  to 
me  on  the  night  wind. 

"  '  If  I  be  I,  as  I  should  be,  I've  a  little  dog 
at  home,  and  he'll  know  me,' "  I  said  to  my- 
self at  last  like  the  old  woman  in  the  storybook, 
only  with  a  grin.  For  when  I  went  into  the 
house  there  would  be  the  neglected  living  room 


I  Come  Home  15 

with  the  smelly  stove,  and  Wilbraham  walking 
up  and  down  there  as  usual ;  and  Dudley  Wil- 
braham's  conversation  would  bring  any  man 
back  to  his  senses,  even  if  he  needed  it  worse 
than  I  did.  I  opened  the  shack  door  and  went 
in, — and  in  the  bare  passage  I  jerked  up  taut. 
The  living  room  faced  me, — and  there  was 
no  stove  in  it.  And  no  Wilbraham,  walking 
up  and  down  and  talking  to  himself.  There 
was  a  glowing,  blazing  log  fire  in  a  stone  fire- 
place that  must  have  been  built  while  I  was 
away;  and,  sitting  alone  before  it,  exactly  as 
I  had  always  thought  of  her,  was  my  dream 
girl, — that  I  had  meant  to  hunt  the  world  for 
to  welcome  me  home ! 


CHAPTER  II 

MY  DREAM:  AND  DUDLEY'S  GIRL 

ALL  I  could  do  was  to  stand  in  the  living- 
room  doorway  and  stare  at  her. 

There  she  sat  by  the  fire,  in  a  short  blue 
skirt  that  showed  her  little  feet  in  blue  stock- 
ings and  buckled  shoes,  and  a  blue  sweater 
whose  rolling  collar  fell  away  from  the  column 
of  her  soft  throat.  And  she  was  just  exactly 
what  I  had  known  she  would  be !  There  was  a 
gold  crest  to  every  exquisite,  warm  wave  of  her 
bronze  hair;  her  level  eyebrows  were  about 
five  shades  darker,  and  her  curled-up  eye- 
lashes darker  still,  where  she  sat  with  her  head 
bent  over  some  sort  of  sewing.  And  even  be- 
fore she  looked  up  and  I  saw  her  eyes,  the 
beauty  of  her  caught  me  at  my  heart.  I  had 
never  thought  even  my  dream  girl  could  be  as 
lovely  as  she  was.  But  there  was  more  to  her 
face  than  beauty.  It  was  so  young  and  sweet 
and  gay,  and — when  you  looked  hard  at  her — 
so  sad,  that  I  forgot  I  ought  either  to  speak  up 
or  go  away.  Of  who  she  was  or  how  she  came 


My  Dream:  And  Dudley's  Girl   17 

to  be  at  La  Chance,  I  had  no  earthly  clue.  I 
knew,  of  course,  that  it  was  she  who  had  met 
me  at  the  landing,  and  common  sense  told  me 
she  had  taken  me  for  some  one  else :  but  I  had 
no  desire  to  say  so,  or  to  go  away  either.  And 
suddenly  she  looked  up  and  saw  me. 

Whoever  she  was  she  had  good  nerves,  for 
she  never  even  stared  as  women  do  at  a  strange 
man.  I  could  have  been  no  reassuring  vision 
either,  standing  there  in  moccasined  feet  that 
had  come  in  on  her  as  silently  as  a  wolf  or  an 
Indian;  with  dirty,  frozen  clothes;  and  a  face 
that  the  Lord  knows  is  dark  and  hard  at  its 
best,  and  must  have  been  forbidding  enough 
that  night  between  dirt  and  fatigue.  But  that 
girl  only  glanced  at  me  as  quietly  as  if  she 
had  known  I  was  there. 

"  Did  you Were  you  looking  for  any 

one?  "  she  asked.  And  the  second  I  heard  her 
voice  I  knew  she  guessed  she  had  spoken  to  me 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago  in  words  she  would 
probably  have  given  all  she  possessed  to  pre- 
vent a  stranger  from  knowing  she  had  need  to 
speak  to  any  one. 

Only  that  was  not  the  reason  I  half  stam- 
mered, "  Not  exactly."  It  was  because  I  could 
see  her  eyes, — and  they  were  like  sapphires, 
and  the  sea,  and  the  night  sky  with  the  first 
stars  in  it.  I  snatched  off  my  cap  that  I  had 
forgotten,  and  bits  of  melting  ice  fell  off  it 


i8     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

and  tinkled  on  the  floor.  The  sharp  little 
sound  brought  my  wits  back  to  me.  Perhaps 
I  had  never  really  thought  my  dream  girl 
would  come  true,  but  once  I  had  found  her  I 
never  meant  to  lose  her.  And  I  knew,  if  I 
cared  a  straw  for  my  life  and  the  love  that  was 
to  be  in  it,  that  I  must  meet  her  now  for  the 
first  time;  that  nothing,  not  even  if  she  told 
me  so  herself,  must  make  me  admit  she  had 
come  to  me  at  the  lake  by  mistake,  or  that  I 
had  ever  heard  her  voice  before. 

I  said,  easily  enough,  "  I'm  afraid  I  startled 
you.    I'm  Stretton,  Wilbraham's  partner  " 
which  I  was  to  the  extent  of  a  thousand  dol- 
lars— "  I've  just  come  home." 

And  crazy  as  it  sounds,  I  felt  as  if  I  had 
come  home,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life.  For 
the  girl  of  my  dreams  came  to  her  feet  with 
just  that  lovely,  controlled  ease  you  see  in  Pav- 
lova, and  with  the  prettiest  little  gesture  of 
welcome. 

"  Oh,  you're  frozen  stiff,"  she  said  with  a 
kind  of  dismayed  sympathy.  "And  I  heard 
Mr.  Wilbraham  say  some  one  had  forgotten 
to  send  out  your  horse  for  you,  and  that  you'd 
probably  walk — the  whole  way  from  Cara- 
quet!  You  must  be  tired  to  death.  Please 
come  to  the  fire  and  get  warm — now  you've 
come  home! " 

I  thought  of  the  queer  smell  that  clung  to 


My  Dream:  And  Dudley's  Girl   19 

my  stained  old  coat  and  the  company  I  had 
kept  at  Skunk's  Misery — though  if  I  had 
guessed  what  that  wretched  boy  was  going  to 
mean  to  me  I  might  have  grudged  my  contact 
with  him  less — and  I  would  not  have  gone  near 
my  dream  girl  for  a  fortune.  "  I  think  I'll 
get  clean  first,"  I  began,  and  found  myself 
laughing  for  the  first  time  in  a  week.  But  as 
I  turned  away  I  glanced  back  from  the  dark 
passage  where  Charliet,  the  French-Canadian 
cook,  was  supposed  to  keep  a  lamp  and  never 
did,  and  saw  the  girl  in  the  living  room  look 
after  me, — with  a  look  I  had  never  seen  in  any 
girl's  eyes,  if  I'd  seen  a  hunted  man  have  it. 

"  Gad,  she  knows  I  know  she  met  me — and 
she  doesn't  mean  to  say  so,"  I  thought  vividly. 
What  the  reason  was  I  couldn't  see,  or  whom 
there  could  be  at  La  Chance  that  such  a  girl 
should  find  it  necessary  to  tell  that  she  would 
not  have  him  disgrace  her,  and  that  he  must  go 
away.  It  made  me  wrathy  to  think  there 
could  be  any  one  she  needed  to  hit  out  at  like 
that.  But  we  had  a  queer  lot  at  the  mine,  in- 
cluding Dunn  and  Collins,  a  couple  of  edu- 
cated boys  who  had  not  been  educated  enough 
to  pass  as  mining  engineers,  and  had  been 
kicked  out  into  the  world  by  their  families. 
It  might  have  been  either  of  those  two  star 
failures  in  the  bunk  house.  The  only  person 
it  could  not  have  been  was  Dudley  Wilbraham ; 


20     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

since  aside  from  the  fact  that  she  could  easily 
speak  to  him  in  the  shack  she  could  not  have 
told  him  he  must  go  away  from  his  own  mine. 
Which  reminded  me  I'd  never  even  asked 
where  Dudley  was  or  one  thing  about  the  mine 
I'd  been  away  from  so  long. 

But  my  dream  girl,  where  no  girl  had  ever 
been,  was  the  only  thing  I  could  think  of.  I 
had  meant  to  get  some  food  and  go  to  bed, 
but  instead  I  threw  my  Skunk's  Misery  clothes 
out  of  the  window,  and  got  ready  to  go  out  to 
supper  and  see  that  girl  again.  Who  under 
heaven  she  could  be  was  past  me,  as  well  as 
how  she  came  to  be  at  La  Chance.  I  would 
have  been  scared  green  lest  she  was  the  wife  of 
some  man  at  the  mine,  only  she  had  no  wed- 
ding ring  on  the  slim  left  hand  that  had 
beckoned  me  to  the  fire.  Yet,  "  She  can't  just 
be  here  alone,  either,  and  I'm  blessed  if  I  see 
who  she  can  have  come  with,"  I  thought 
blankly.  And  I  opened  my  room  door  straight 
on  Marcia  Wilbraham, — Wilbraham's  sister! 

"  Well"  I  said.  It  was  the  only  thing  that 
came  to  me.  I  knew  immediately,  of  course, 
that  the  girl  in  the  living  room  must  have  come 
out  with  Marcia ;  but  it  knocked  me  silly  to  see 
Marcia  herself  at  La  Chance.  I  had  known 
Marcia  Wilbraham,  as  I  had  known  Dudley, 
ever  since  I  wore  blue  serge  knickerbockers 
trimmed  with  white  braid.  She  never  went 


My  Dream:  And  Dudley's  Girl   21 

anywhere  with  Dudley.  She  had  money  of 
her  own,  and  she  spent  it  on  Horse  Show 
horses,  and  traveling  around  to  show  them. 
But  here  she  stood  in  front  of  me,  in  a  forsaken 
backwoods  mine  that  I  should  not  have  ex- 
pected even  Dudley  himself  to  stay  at  if  I  had 
not  known  his  reasons. 

"  I  don't  wonder  you  say  '  well/  "  Marcia 
returned  crisply.  She  was  good-looking  in  a 
big  way,  if  you  did  not  mind  brown  eyes  that 
were  too  small  for  her  face  and  a  smile  that 
showed  her  gums.  I  had  never  liked  or  dis- 
liked her  especially,  any  more  than  you  do 
any  girl  about  your  own  age  whom  you've  al- 
ways known.  "  I've  been  here  for  three 
months !  I  was  very  near  going  home  a  month 
ago — but  I  don't  think  I'll  go  now.  I  believe 
I'll  try  a  winter  here." 

"A  winter!  "  I  thought  of  Marcia  "  trying 
a  winter,"  and  I  laughed. 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  throw  back  your  hand- 
some Indian  head  to  grin  at  me,  Nicky  Stret- 
ton,"  said  she  crossly.  "  I'm  tired  of  always 
doing  the  same  thing.  And  anyhow,  the  stable 
lost  money,  and  I  had  to  sell  out! " 

"  But  why  stay  here— with  Dudley? "  I  let 
out.  The  two  of  them  had  always  fought 
like  cats. 

"  I'm  going  to  do  some  shooting — and  wolf 
hunting,"  Marcia  smiled  the  ugly  smile  I  never 


22      The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

could  stand.  "  I'm  going  to  stay,  anyhow;  so 
you'll  have  to  bear  it,  Nicky!  " 

"  I'm — charmed!  "  I  thought  like  lightning 
that  my  dream  girl  would  do  whatever  Marcia 
did,  and  I  blessed  my  stars  she  was  staying; 
though  I  kneAV  she  would  be  all  kinds  of  a 
nuisance  if  she  insisted  on  turning  out  to  hunt 
wolves.  She  was  all  but  dressed  for  it  even 
then,  in  a  horrid  green  divided  skirt  that  made 
her  look  like  a  fat  old  gentleman.  But  it  was 
not  Marcia  I  meant  to  talk  about. 

"  Have  you  brought  the — other  girl — to 
hunt  wolves,  too?  "  I  inquired,  as  we  moved 
on  down  the  passage;  there  was  no  upstairs  to 
the  shack. 

"  No,"  said  Marcia  quite  carelessly,  if  I  had 
not  caught  the  snap  in  her  eyes.  "  She's  come 
to  hunt  Dudley!  She's  going  to  marry  him." 

"  She's  what?  "  I  was  suddenly  thankful 
we  had  left  the  light  from  my  open  door  and 
that  Charliet  despised  keeping  a  lamp  in  the 
passage.  The  bland  idea  that  I  had  found  my 
dream  girl  split  to  bits  as  if  a  half-ton  rock  had 
landed  on  it.  For  her  to  be  going  to  marry 
any  one  was  bad  enough ;  but  Dudley,  with  his 
temper,  and  his  drink,  and  the  drugs  I  was 
pretty  sure  he  took!  The  thing  was  so  un- 
speakable that  I  stopped  short  in  the  passage. 

Marcia  Wilbraham  stopped  short  too.  :<  I 
don't  wonder  you're  knocked  silly,"  she  said. 


My  Dream:  And  Dudley's  Girl  23 

"  Here,  come  out  of  this;  I  want  to  speak  to 
you,  and  I  may  as  well  do  it  now!"  She 
pushed  me  into  the  office  where  Dudley  did  his 
accounts — which  was  his  name  for  sitting 
drinking  all  day,  and  never  speaking  to  any 
one — and  shut  the  door.  "  Look  here,  Nicky, 
if  you're  thinking  that  girl  is  a  friend  of  mine, 
she  isn't!  I  don't  know  one  thing  about  her. 
Except  that  this  summer  I  had  reason  to  oblige 
Dudley,  and  one  day  he  came  to  me — you 
know  he  was  in  New  York  for  nearly  two 
months " 

I  nodded.  I  had  not  cared  where  he  was, 
so  that  he  was  away  from  La  Chance,  where 
he  and  old  Thompson  would  drive  a  tunnel 
just  where  I  knew  it  was  useless. 

"  Well,  he  came  to  me  in  the  first  of  August, 
and  said  he  was  going  to  marry  a  girl  called 
Paulette  Brown, — and  he  wanted  me  to  bring 
her  out  here!  Why  he  didn't  marry  her 
straight  off  and  bring  her  out  here  himself,  I 
don't  know ;  he  only  hummed  and  hawed  when 
I  asked  him.  But  anyhow,  I  met  Paulette 
Brown,  for  the  first  time,  at  the  station,  when 
we  started  up  here — she  and  I  and  Dudley. 
And  she  puzzled  me  from  the  second  we  got 
into  the  Pullman,  and  I  saw  her  pull  off  the 
two  veils  she'd  worn  around  her  head  in  the 
station !  And  she  puzzles  me  worse  now." 

"  Why?  "    I  might  have  been  puzzled  my- 


24     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

self,  remembering  Paulette  Brown's  speech  to 
me  in  the  dark,  but  it  was  none  of  Marcia's 
business. 

"  Because  I  know  I've  seen  her  before," 
Marcia  returned  calmly,  "  only  with  no  '  Paul- 
ette Brown '  tacked  on  to  her.  I've  seen  her 
dance  somewhere,  but  I  can't  think  where — 
and  that's  the  first  thing  that  puzzles  me." 

"  I  don't  see  why,"  I  said  disagreeably, 
"  considering  that  every  one  dances  somewhere 
all  day  long  just  now." 

"  It  wasn't  that  kind  of  dancing.  It  was 
rather — wonderful!  And  there  was  some 
story  tacked  on  to  it,"  Marcia  frowned,  "  only 
I  can't  think  what!  And  the  second  thing 
that  puzzles  me  about  Paulette  Brown — I  tell 
you,  Nicky,  I  believe  she  can't  bear  Dudley, 
and  that  she  doesn't  want  to  marry  him ! " 

It  was  the  first  decent  thing  I  had  heard 
from  her,  and  I  could  have  opened  my  mouth 
and  cheered.  But  I  said,  "  Then  why's  she 
here?" 

"  Just  because  it  suits  her  for  some  reason 
of  her  own,"  Marcia  was  earnest  as  I  had  never 
seen  her.  "  Nicky,  I  don't  think  she's  any- 
thing in  the  world  but  some  sort  of  an  adven- 
turess— only  what  I  can't  understand  about 
her  is  what  she  wants  of  Dudley!  It  isn't 
money,  for  I  know  he's  tried  to  make  her  take 
it,  and  she  wouldn't.  Yet  I  know,  too,  that 


My  Dream:  And  Dudley's  Girl  25 

she  hadn't  a  cent  coming  up  here,  and  she 
hasn't  now — or  even  any  clothes  but  summer 
things,  and  a  blue  sweater  she  wears  all  the 
time.  She  never  speaks  about  herself,  or 
where  she  comes  from " 

"  I  don't  see  why  there  should  be  any  mys- 
tery about  that!"  It  was  a  lie,  but  I  might 
not  have  seen,  if  she  had  not  spoken  to  me 
incomprehensibly  in  the  dark.  "  Dudley  prob- 
ably knows  all  about  her  people." 

"A  girl  called  Paulette  Brown  doesn't  have 
any  people,"  scornfully.  "  Besides,  her  name 
isn't  Brown,  or  Paulette — she  used  to  forget 
to  answer  to  either  of  them  at  first;  and  if 
Dudley  knows  what  it  really  is,  I'm  going  to 
know  too — before  I'm  a  month  older!  I  tell 
you  I've  seen  her  before,  and  I  know  there  was 
some  kind  of  an  ugly  story  tacked  on  to  her 
and  her  dancing.  That,  and  her  real  name, 
are  up  in  the  attic  of  my  brain  somewhere,  and 
some  day  they'll  come  down! " 

"  Well,  they  won't  concern  me,"  I  cut  in 
stolidly.  Whoever  'Paulette  Brown  was,  if 
she  were  going  to  marry  Dudley  Wilbraham 
ten  times  over,  she  was  the  one  girl  in  the  world 
who  belonged  to  me, — and  I  was  not  going  to 
have  her  discussed  by  Marcia  behind  a  shut 
door. 

But  Marcia's  retort  was  too  quick  for  me. 
"  They  may  interest  you,  all  the  same,  if  that 


26     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

girl's  what  I  think  she  is!  Don't  make  any 
mistake,  Nicky;  she's  no  chorus  girl  out  of 
work.  She's  a  lady.  Only — she's  been  some- 
thing else,  too!  You  watch  how  she  uses  a 
perfectly  trained  body." 

I  all  but  started.  I  had  seen  it  already, 
when  I  thought  she  moved  like  Pavlova.  "Any- 
thing else? "  I  inquired  disagreeably. 

"  Yes,"  said  Marcia  quietly.  "  She's  afraid 
for  her  life,  or  Dudley's — I  can't  make  out 
which.  Wait,  and  you'll  see.  Come  on ;  we'll 
be  late  for  supper.  It  would  have  been  over 
hours  ago  if  Dudley  and  I  hadn't  been  out 
shooting  this  afternoon.  We've  only  just 
come  in." 

But  I  was  not  thinking  about  supper.  The 
Wilbrahams  had  been  out,  and  Paulette 
Brown,  left  alone,  had  taken  her  chance  to 
speak  to  some  one.  That  she  had  happened  to 
mistake  her  man  and  spoken  to  me  made  no 
difference  in  the  fact,  and  it  came  too  aptly  on 
Marcia's  suspicions  about  her.  But  "  My 
good  heavens,  I  won't  care  what  she  did,"  I 
thought  fiercely.  My  dream  girl's  eyes  were 
honest,  if  they  were  deep  blue  lakes  a  man 
might  drown  his  soul  in,  too.  If  she  were 
Dudley's  twice  over  I  was  going  to  stand  by 
her,  because  by  all  my  dreams  of  her  she  was 
more  mine.  "I  haven't  time,  or  chances,  to  be 
watching  pretty  ladies,"  I  said  drily,  "  and  I 


My  Dream:  And  Dudley's  Girl  27 

wouldn't  bother  over  it  myself  if  I  were  you. 
I'd  let  it  go  at  plain  Paulette  Brown !  " 

"  If  you  could,"  said  Marcia,  just  as  drily. 
And  over  her  words,  close  outside  the  window, 
a  wolf  howled. 

It  startled  me,  as  it  had  startled  me  once 
before  that  evening,  only  this  time  I  knew  the 
reason.  "  Scott,  I  never  knew  the  wolves  to 
be  coming  out  so  early  in  the  season !  "  I  was 
thankful  to  be  back  to  things  I  could  exclaim 
about.  "And  down  here,  beside  the  house,  I 
never  saw  any !  " 

"  No;  so  Dudley  said,"  Marcia  returned  al- 
most absently.  She  opened  the  door  for  her- 
self, because  I  had  forgotten  it,  and  stood  look- 
ing at  the  lighted  living  room  at  the  end  of  the 
passage  by  the  front  door.  "  But  the  wolves 
have  been  round  for  a  week — that  was  what  I 
meant  when  I  said  I  was  going  to  have  some 
wolf  hunts !  The  mine  superintendent's  going 
to  take  me." 

"  Thompson !  "  I  let  out.  Then  I  chuckled. 
Marcia  was  likely  to  have  a  great  wolf  hunt 
with  Thompson,  who  knew  no  difference  be- 
tween a  shotgun  and  a  rifle,  and  would  have 
legged  it  from  a  fox  if  he  had  met  it  alone. 
"  Marcia  Wilbraham,  I'll  pay  you  five  dollars 
if  you  ever  get  out  wolf  hunting  with  Thomp- 
son. Why,  the  only  thing  he  can  do  for  diver- 
sion is  to  play  solitaire! " 


28     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

"  Oh,  him — yes,"  said  Marcia  carelessly  and 
without  grammar.  "  But  I  didn't  mean  old 
Thompson.  He's  been  gone  for  a  month,  and 
we've  a  new  man.  His  name's  Macartney, 
and  he's  been  here  two  weeks." 

It  was  news  to  me,  if  it  was  also  an  example 
of  the  way  Dudley  Wilbraham  ran  his  mine. 
But  before  I  could  speak  Marcia  nodded 
significantly  down  the  passage  to  the  living- 
room  door.  I  had  been  looking  into  the  room 
myself,  as  you  do  at  the  lighted  stage  in  a 
theatre,  and  I  had  seen  only  one  thing  in  it: 
my  dream  girl — whose  name  might  or  might 
not  be  Paulette  Brown,  whom  Dudley  Wil- 
braham had  more  right  to  than  I  had — sitting 
by  the  fire  as  I  had  left  her,  that  fire  I  had 
dreamed  I  should  come  home  to,  just  myself 
alone,  and  talking  to  Dudley.  But  Marcia  had 
been  looking  at  something  else,  and  now  my 
gaze  followed  hers. 

A  tall,  lean,  hard,  capable-looking  man  stood 
on  the  other  side  of  the  fire.  He  was  taking 
no  share  in  the  conversation  between  Dudley 
and  the  girl  who  had  only  lived  in  my  dreams 
till  to-night.  He  was  watching  the  living- 
room  door,  quite  palpably,  and  it  struck  me 
abruptly  that  I  had  not  far  to  seek  for  Marcia 
Wilbraham's  reason  for  staying  the  winter  at 
La  Chance.  But  I  might  have  taken  more 
interest  in  that  and  in  Macartney,  the  new 


My  Dream:  And  Dudley's  Girl   29 

mine  superintendent,  too,  if  the  girl  sitting  by 
the  fire  had  not  seen  Marcia  in  the  doorway 
and  risen  to  her  feet. 

For  she  floated  up,  effortlessly,  uncon- 
sciously, to  the  very  tips  of  her  toes,  and  stood 
so — like  Pavlova! 


CHAPTER  III 

DUDLEY'S  MINE:  AND  DUDLEY'S  GOLD 

I  have  stared  my  eyes  blind  for  her, 
Bridled  my  body  alive  for  her, 

Starved  my  soul  to  the  rind  for  her — 
Do  I  lose  all? 

The  Lost  Lover. 

I  COULD  feel  Marcia*s  satisfied,  significant 
smile  through  the  back  of  my  neck  as  I  shook 
hands  with  Dudley,  and  was  introduced  in  turn 
to  Miss  Brown — the  last  name  for  her,  even 
without  the  affected  Paulette,  though  I  might 
not  have  thought  of  it  but  for  Marcia — and  to 
Macartney,  the  new  incumbent  of  Thompson's 
shoes.  Dudley,  little  and  fat,  in  the  dirty 
boots  he  had  worn  all  day,  and  just  a  little 
loaded,  told  me  to  wait  till  the  morning  or  go  to 
the  devil,  when  I  asked  about  the  mine.  Char- 
liet  banged  the  food  on  the  table  for  supper — 
Marcia  despised  housekeeping,  and  if  the  liv- 
ing room  had  been  reformed  nothing  else  had— 
and  I  sat  down  in  silence  and  ate.  At  least  I 
shovelled  food  into  my  famished  stomach.  My 
attention  was  elsewhere. 


Dudley's  Mine:    Dudley's  Gold    31 

Paulette  Brown  sat  beside  Dudley.  She 
was  just  twice  as  pretty  as  I  had  realized,  even 
when  the  first  sight  of  her  struck  me  dumb. 
Her  eyes  were  as  dark  as  indigo,  in  the  lamp- 
light, and  a  marvellous  rose  color  flitted  in  her 
cheeks  as  she  spoke  or  was  silent.  She  had 
wonderful  hands,  too,  slim  and  white,  without 
a  sign  of  a  bone  at  the  wrists;  but  I  had  a 
curious  feeling  that  they  were  the  very  strong- 
est hands  I  had  ever  seen  on  a  girl.  Remem- 
bering Dudley,  it  hurt  me  to  look  at  her;  and 
suddenly  something  else  hurt  me  worse,  that  I 
had  been  a  fool  not  to  have  thought  of  before. 
Macartney,  the  mine  superintendent,  was  new 
there;  I  knew  no  more  of  him  than  I  did  of 
Paulette  Brown — not  so  much,  perhaps,  thanks 
to  Marcia — and  it  came  over  me  that  he  might 
have  been  the  man  for  whom  she  had  taken  me 
to-night,  and  that  it  was  he  she  had  crept  out 
into  the  dark  to  speak  to  in  secret.  I  looked 
at  him  over  my  coffee  cup,  and  there  was  some- 
thing about  him  I  did  not  like. 

He  was  a  tall  man,  very  capable-looking,  as 
I  said;  extremely  fair  and  rather  handsome, 
with  hard,  grayish  eyes  that  looked  straight 
at  you  when  he  spoke.  He  had  a  charming 
laugh — yet  when  he  laughed  I  saw  suddenly 
what  it  was  that  I  did  not  like  about  him ;  and 
it  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  certain  set 
look  about  his  eye  muscles.  Some  gamblers 


32     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

have  it,  and  it  did  not  strike  my  fancy  in  the 
new  mine  superintendent  at  La  Chance.  But 
watch  as  I  might,  I  saw  no  sign  of  an  under- 
standing between  him  and  my  dream  girl.  It 
was  impossible  to  be  sure,  of  course,  but  I  was 
nearly  sure.  She  spoke  to  him  as  she  spoke  to 
Marcia  and  Dudley — she  never  addressed  one 
word  to  me — just  easily  and  simply,  as  people 
do  who  live  in  the  same  house.  Macartney 
himself  talked  mostly  to  Marcia,  which  was 
no  business  of  mine.  Only  I  was  somehow 
curiously  thankful  that  it  had  not  been 
Macartney  whom  Paulette  had  meant  to  meet 
in  the  dark.  There  was  something  about  his 
eyes  that  said  he  was  no  safe  customer  for  any 
girl  to  speak  to  with  hatred, — especially  a  girl 
whom  another  girl  was  watching,  as  Marcia 
was  watching  Paulette  Brown.  I  decided  it 
must  have  been  either  Dunn  or  Collins — our 
two  worthless  Yale  boys  at  the  mine — whom 
she  had  wanted  to  get  rid  of,  and  I  felt  better; 
for  it  would  be  easy  enough  to  save  her  trouble 
by  doing  that  myself.  They  might  just  have 
come  back  to  La  Chance  like  me,  for  all  I 
knew,  because  Dudley  had  a  trick  of  sending 
the  men  heaven  knew  where  to  prospect. 

It  was  rot,  anyhow,  to  be  taking  a  girl's 
affairs  so  seriously.  I  looked  at  my  dream 
girl's  clear  eyes,  and  thought  that  if  she  knew 
what  Marcia  and  I  were  thinking  about  her  she 


Dudley's  Mine:   Dudley's  Gold    33 

might  have  good  reason  to 'be  angry.  Also 
that  Dudley  probably  knew  all  about  her  even- 
ing stroll  and  what  she  was  doing  at  La 
Chance,  if  Marcia  did  not.  And  Dudley's 
self-important  voice  cut  through  my  thoughts 
like  a  knife: 

"  Where  on  earth  were  you  this  evening, 
Paulette? "  he  was  demanding  irritably.  "  I 
couldn't  see  a  sign  of  you  when  Marcia  and  I 
went  out,  and  you  weren't  anywhere  when  we 
came  in ! " 

"  I  don't  know  " — the  girl  began — and  I 
saw  the  color  go  out  of  her  face,  and  it  made 
me  angry. 

"  I  can  tell  you  where  Miss  Brown  was,"  I 
said  deliberately,  "  if  she's  ashamed  to  own  it. 
She  was  good  and  settled  by  this  fire." 

Why  I  lied  for  her  I  could  not  say.  But 
the  glance  she  turned  on  me  gave  me  a  flat  sort 
of  feeling,  as  if  Marcia  might  be  right  and  she 
was  there  for  reasons  of  her  own  that  I  had  all 
but  stumbled  on  by  accident.  I  was  a  fool 
to  care;  but  then  I  had  been  a  fool  all  day 
with  my  silly  thoughts  of  leaving  La  Chance 
to  chase  the  world  for  an  imaginary  girl,  and 
more  fool  still  to  think  I  had  found  her  there 
waiting  for  me.  I  said  something  about  being 
tired  and  went  off  to  bed.  I  was  tired,  right 
enough,  but  I  was  something  else  too.  All 
that  business  about  the  girl  I  meant  to  find  and 


34     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

marry  may  sound  like  a  child's  silly  game  to 
you,  but  it  had  been  more  than  a  game  to  me. 
It  had  been  a  solid  prop  to  hold  to  in  ugly 
places  where  a  man  might  slip  if  he  had  not 
clean  love  and  a  girl  in  his  head.  And  now, 
at  seven-and-twenty,  I  wanted  my  child's  game 
to  come  true:  just  my  own  fire,  and  my  own 
girl,  and  a  life  that  held  more  than  mere  slaving 
for  money.  And  it  had  come  true,  as  far  as 
the  fire  and  the  welcome  home;  only  the  girl 
was  another  man's. 

I  knew  what  I  ought  to  do  was  to  get  out  of 
La  Chance,  but  I  could  not  screw  myself  up  to 
the  acceptance  of  the  obvious  fact  that  there 
were  other  girls  in  the  world  than  Paulette 
Brown.  I  told  myself  I  was  too  dead  tired  to 
care.  I  stumbled  to  my  window  to  open  it — 
Charliet's  lamp  had  burned  out  while  I  was  at 
supper  and  the  room  was  stifling — and  a  sud- 
den queer  sense  that  some  one  or  something 
was  under  my  window  made  me  stand  there 
without  raising  it.  And  there  was  some  thing, 
anyway.  The  windows  in  the  shack  were 
about  a  yard  above  the  ground.  There  was  a 
glimpse  of  the  moon  through  the  wind-tor- 
tured clouds,  now  on  the  rough  clearing,  now 
on  the  thick  spruces  round  the  edge  of  it, — for 
my  window  looked  on  the  bush,  not  toward  the 
bunk  house  and  the  mine.  And  as  the  moon- 
light flickered  back  on  the  clearing  I  saw  my 


Dudley's  Mine:    Dudley's  Gold    35 

clothes  I  had  worn  at  Skunk's  Misery  and 
tossed  out  for  Charliet  to  bum  because  they 
smelled, — and  something  else  that  made  me 
stare  in  pure  surprise. 

There  was  a  wolf — gaunt,  gray,  fantastic 
in  the  moonlight — rolling  on  my  clothes;  re- 
gardless of  the  human  eyes  on  him  and  within 
ten  feet  of  the  house.  It  was  so  crazy  that  I 
almost  forgot  the  girl  Marcia  had  said  was 
only  "  called  "  Paulette  Brown.  I  jerked  up 
the  window  and  stood  waiting  for  the  wolf  to 
run.  And  it  did  not  take  the  least  notice  of 
me.  I  could  have  shot  it  ten  times  over,  but 
the  thing  was  so  incredible  that  I  only  stood 
staring;  and  suddenly  my  chance  was  gone. 
The  beast  picked  up  my  coat,  as  a  dog  does  a 
bone,  and  disappeared  with  it  like  a  streak  into 
the  black  bush. 

"  Scott,  I  never  saw  a  wolf  behave  like 
that !  "  I  thought.  But  one  more  impossibility 
in  an  impossible  day  did  not  matter.  I  left 
the  window  open  and  tumbled  into  bed. 

I  would  have  forgotten  the  thing  in  the 
morning,  only  that  when  I  got  up  all  my 
Skunk's  Misery  clothes  had  disappeared,  and 
Charliet  had  not  taken  them,  because  I  asked 
him.  I  did  not  mention  last  night's  wolf  to 
him,  because  I  was  in  a  hurry  to  catch  Dudley 
and  tell  him  I  meant  to  leave  La  Chance.  But 
I  did  not  tell  him,  for  when  I  thought  of  leav- 


36     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

ing  my  dream  girl  to  him  it  would  not  come  to 
my  tongue.  An  obstinate,  matter-of-fact  devil 
got  up  in  my  heart  instead  and  prompted  me 
to  stay  just  where  I  was.  I  looked  at  Dud- 
ley— little,  fat,  pompous,  and  so  self-opin- 
ionated that  it  fairly  stuck  out  of  him — and 
thought  that  if  I  had  a  fair  chance  I  could 
take  my  dream  girl  from  him.  I  might  be 
dark  as  an  Indian  and  without  a  cent  to  my 
name  except  the  few  dollars  I  had  sunk  in  the 
mine,  but  I  did  not  drink  or  eat  drugs ;  and  I 
knew  Dudley  did  one  and  guessed  he  did  the 
other.  Interfering  with  him  was  out  of  the 
question,  of  course;  it  was  not  a  thing  any 
man  could  do  to  his  friend,  deliberately.  I 
supposed  he  would  be  good  to  the  girl,  accord- 
ing to  his  lights.  But,  all  the  same,  I  decided 
to  stay  at  La  Chance.  I  saw  Dudley  was 
brimming  over  with  something  secret,  and  I 
hoped  to  heaven  it  was  not  his  engagement,  and 
that  I  should  not  have  to  stand  my  own 
thoughts  of  a  girl  translated  into  Dudley's. 
But  he  did  not  mention  her.  He  hooked  his 
fat  wrist  into  my  elbow  and  trotted  me  down 
to  the  mine. 

It  was  an  amateur  sort  of  mine,  as  you  may 
have  gathered.  Dudley  had  no  use  for  expert 
assistance  or  for  advice.  And  it  was  a  simple 
looking  place.  The  shore  of  Lac  Tremblant 
there  ran  back  flat  to  a  hill,  a  quarter  of  a  mile 


Dudley's  Mine:   Dudley's  Gold    37 

from  the  water,  with  a  solid  rock  face  like  a 
cliff.  Along  that  cliff  face  came  first  Dud- 
ley's shack,  then  Thompson's  tunnel,  then — a 
good  way  farther  down — the  bunk  house,  the 
mill,  and  a  shanty  Dudley  called  the  assay 
office.  But  I  stared  at  a  new  hole  in  the  cliff, 
farther  down  even  than  the  assay  office. 

"  Why,  you've  driven  a  new  tunnel,"  I  ex- 
claimed. 

'Yes,  my  young  son,"  said  Dudley;  and 
then  he  burst  out  with  things.  Macartney  had 
run  that  new  tunnel  as  soon  as  he  came  and 
struck  quartz  that  was  solid  for  heaven  knew 
how  far,  and  carrying  thick,  free  gold  that 
assayed  incredibly  to  the  ton.  The  La  Chance 
mine,  whose  name  had  been  more  truth  than 
poetry — for  when  I  made  fifty  miles  of  road 
that  cost  like  the  devil,  to  haul  in  machinery 
and  a  mill  it  was  pitch  and  toss  if  we  should 
ever  need  it — had  turned  out  a  certainty  while 
I  was  away. 

I  stood  silent.  It  meant  plenty  to  me,  who 
had  only  a  trifle  in  the  thing,  but  I  was  the 
only  soul  in  the  world  who  knew  what  it  meant 
to  Dudley.  Stocks,  carelessness,  but  chiefly 
bull-headed  extravagance,  had  run  through 
every  cent  he  had,  and  La  Chance  had  saved 
him  from  having  to  live  on  Marcia's  charity, — 
if  she  had  any.  There  was  no  fear,  either,  of 
his  being  interfered  with  in  the  bonanza  he 


38     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

had  struck;  for  leaving  out  my  infinitesimal 
share,  Dudley  was  sole  owner, — and  he  had 
bought  a  thousand  acres  mining  concession 
from  the  Government  for  ten  dollars  an  acre, 
which  is  the  law  when  a  potential  mining  dis- 
trict in  unsurveyed  territory  is  more  than 
twenty  miles  by  a  wagon  road  from  a  railway. 
All  he  had  to  do  with  would-be  prospectors 
was  to  chuck  them  out.  He  had  got  in  ten 
stamps  for  his  mill  over  the  road  I  had  built 
from  Caraquet,  and — since  Macartney  arrived 
— was  milling  stuff  whose  net  result  made  me 
stare,  after  the  miserable,  two-dollar  ore  old 
Thompson  had  broken  my  heart  with. 

"  So  you  see,  we're  made,"  Dudley  finished 
simply.  "  Macartney  struck  his  vein  first  go 
off,  and  we'll  be  able  to  work  it  all  winter. 
You'd  better  start  in  to-day  and  get  some 
snowsheds  built  along  the  face  of  the  work- 
ings— they  ought  to  have  been  started  a  week 
ago.  Why  in  the  devil " — drink  and  drugs 
do  not  make  a  man  easy  to  work  with,  and  you 
never  knew  when  Dudley  might  turn  on  you 
with  a  face  like  a  fiend — "  didn't  you  get  back 
from  Caraquet  before?  You'd  nothing  to  keep 
you  away  this  last  week !  " 

"  I'd  plenty,"  I  returned  drily.  "And  I 
may  remind  you  that  I  didn't  propose  to  have 
to  walk  back!"  It  was  the  first  time  I  had 
mentioned  my  missing  horse.  I  did  not  men- 


Dudley's  Mine:   Dudley's  Gold    39 

tion  my  stay  in  Skunk's  Misery:  it  was  a  side 
show  of  my  own,  to  my  mind,  and  unconnected 
with  Dudley, — though  I  ought  to  have  known 
that  nothing  in  life  is  ever  a  side  show,  even  if 
you  can't  see  the  door  from  the  big  tent. 

"  Oh,  your  horse,"  said  Dudley  more  civilly. 
"  I  didn't  think  I'd  forgotten  about  it,  but  I 
suppose  I  must  have.  I  was  a  good  deal  put 
out  getting  Thompson  off." 

"  What  happened  about  him?  "  I  had  had 
no  chance  to  ask  before. 

"  Oh,  I  never  could  stand  him,"  and  I  knew 
it  was  true.  "  Sitting  all  the  evening  playing 
cards  like  a  performing  dog!  And  he  wasn't 
fit  for  his  work,  either.  I  told  him  so,  and  he 
said  he'd  go.  He  went  out  to  Caraquet  nearly 
a  month  ago — I  thought  you  knew.  D'ye 
mean  you  didn't  see  him  going  through?  " 

I  shook  my  head.  It  was  a  wonder  I  had 
not,  for  I  had  spent  most  of  last  month  fussing 
over  some  bad  places  on  the  road,  by  the  turn 
where  I  had  found  my  boy  from  Skunk's  Mis- 
ery, and  I  ought  to  have  seen  Thompson  go  by. 
But  the  solution  was  simple.  There  was  one 
Monday  and  Tuesday  I  had  my  road  gang  off 
in  the  bush,  on  the  opposite  side  from  the 
Skunk's  Misery  valley,  getting  stuff  to  finish 
a  bit  of  corduroy.  In  those  two  days  I  could 
have  missed  seeing  Thompson,  and  I  said  so. 

"  You  didn't  miss  much,"  Dudley  returned 


40     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

carelessly.  ;<  This  Macartney's  a  long  sight 
better  man." 

"  Where'd  you  get  him? "  I  was  pretty  sure 
it  was  not  Macartney  for  whom  my  dream  girl 
had  mistaken  me  in  the  dark,  but  there  was  no 
harm  in  knowing  all  I  could  about  him. 

Dudley  knocked  the  wind  straight  out  of 
my  half  suspicion. 

"  Thompson  sent  him,"  he  returned  with  a 
grin.  "  I  told  him  to  get  somebody.  Oh,  we 
parted  friends  all  right,  old  Thompson  and  I ! 
He  saw,  just  as  I  did,  that  he  wasn't  the  man 
for  the  place.  Macartney  struck  that  vein  first 
go  off,  and  that  was  recommendation  enough 
for  me.  But  here's  Thompson's,  if  you  want 
to  see  it !  "  He  extracted  a  folded  letter  from 
a  case. 

It  was  written  in  Thompson's  careful,  back- 
number  copperplate,  perhaps  not  so  careful  as 
usual,  but  his  unmistakably.  And  once  and 
for  all  I  dismissed  all  idea  that  it  could  have 
been  Macartney  who  was  tangled  up  with 
Paulette  Brown.  Old  Thompson's  friends 
were  not  that  sort,  and  he  vouched  for  knowing 
Macartney  all  his  life.  He  was  a  well-known 
man,  according  to  Thompson,  with  a  long 
string  of  letters  after  his  name.  Thompson  had 
come  on  him  by  accident,  and  sent  him  up  at 
once,  before  he  was  snapped  up  elsewhere. 

"  Thompson  seems  to  have  got  a  move  on  in 


Dudley's  Mine:    Dudley's  Gold    41 

sending  up  his  successor,"  said  I  idly.  '  When 
did  he  write  this? "  For  there  was  no  envel- 
ope, and  only  Montreal,  with  no  date,  on  the 
letter. 

"  Dunno — first  day  he  got  to  Montreal,  it 
says,"  carelessly.  "  Come  along  and  have  a 
look  at  the  workings.  I  want  you  to  get  log 
shelters  built  as  quick  as  you  can  build  them — 
we  don't  want  to  have  to  dig  out  the  new  tun- 
nel mouth  every  time  it  snows.  After  that 
you  can  go  to  Caraquet  with  what  gold  we've 
got  out  and  be  gone  as  long  as  you  please. 
Now,  we  may  have  snow  any  day." 

I  nodded.  The  winter  arrives  for  good  at 
La  Chance  in  November,  and  besides  the  ex- 
posed tunnel  mouth,  there  was  no  shelter  over 
the  ore  platform  at  the  mill.  This  year  the 
snow  was  late,  but  there  was  no  counting  on 
that.  And  I  blinked  as  I  went  out  of  the 
white  November  sunshine  into  Macartney's 
new  tunnel,  and  the  candlelight  of  his  hum- 
ming stope.  One  glance  around  told  me  Dud- 
ley was  right,  and  the  man  knew  his  business; 
and  it  was  the  same  over  at  the  mill.  It 
seemed  to  me  superintendent  was  a  mild  name 
for  Macartney,  and  general  manager  would 
have  fitted  better.  But  I  said  nothing,  for 
Dudley  considered  he  was  general  manager 
himself.  Another  thing  that  pleased  me  about 
the  new  man  was  that  he  seemed  to  be  doing 


42  The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery- 
nothing,  till  you  saw  how  his  men  jumped  for 
him,  while  Thompson  had  never  been  able  to 
keep  his  hands  off  the  men's  work.  There  was 
none  of  that  in  Macartney;  and  if  he  had 
struck  me  as  capable  the  night  before  he  looked 
ten  times  more  so  now,  as  he  placidly  ran  four 
jobs  at  once. 

He  was  a  good-looking  figure  of  a  man,  too, 
in  his  brown  duck  working  clothes,  and  I  did 
not  wonder  Marcia  Wilbraham  had  taken  a 
fancy  to  him.  Dudley  would  probably  be 
blazing  if  he  caught  her  philandering  with  his 
superintendent,  but  it  was  no  business  of  mine. 
And  anyhow,  Macartney  had  my  blessing  since 
it  could  not  be  he  to  whom  Paulette  Brown 
had  meant  to  speak  the  night  before.  That 
ought  to  have  been  none  of  my  business  either, 
and  to  get  it  out  of  my  head  I  turned  to  Dud- 
ley, fussing  round  and  talking  about  tailings. 
And  one  omission  in  all  he  and  Macartney  had 
shown  me  hopped  up  in  my  head.  '  Where's 
your  gold?  "  I  demanded. 

;<  That's  one  thing  we  don't  keep  loose  on 
the  doorsteps,"  Macartney  returned  drily,  and 
I  rather  liked  him  for  it,  since  he  knew  nothing 
of  my  share  in  the  mine. 

But  Dudley  snapped  at  him:  "  Why  can't 
you  say  it's  in  the  house — in  my  office?  Stret- 
ton's  going  to  take  it  into  Caraquet ;  there's  no 
sense  in  making  a  mystery  to  him.  Come  on, 


Dudley's  Mine:    Dudley's  Gold    43 

Stretton,  and  have  a  look  at  it  now!"  He 
stuck  his  fat  little  arm  through  mine,  and  we 
went  back  to  the  house  by  the  back  door  and 
Charliet's  untidy  kitchen.  It  was  the  shortest 
way,  and  it  was  not  till  afterwards  that  I  re- 
membered it  was  not  commanded  by  the  win- 
dow in  his  office,  like  the  front  way.  I  was  not 
keen  on  going;  later  I  had  a  sickly  feeling  that 
it  was  because  I  had  a  presentiment  of  seeing 
something  I  did  not  want  to  see.  Then  all  I 
thought  was  that  I  had  a  hundred  other  things 
to  do,  and  though  I  went  unwillingly,  I  went. 

'  The  gold's  in  my  safe,  in  boxes,"  Dudley 
said  on  the  way,  "  and  that  I'm  not  going  to 
undo.  But  I've  a  lump  or  two  in  my  desk  I 
can  show  you." 

"  Lying  round  loose? "  I  shrugged  my 
shoulders. 

"  No,  it's  locked  up.  But  no  one  ever  comes 
in  here  but  me,  and  " — he  gave  a  shove  at  the 
office  door  that  seemed  to  have  stuck, — "  and 
Miss  Brown ! " 

But  I  was  speechless  where  I  stood  behind 
him.  There  was  the  bare  office;  Dudley's 
locked  desk;  Dudley's  safe  against  the  wall. 
And  turning  away  from  the  safe,  in  her  blue 
sweater  and  blue  skirt  and  stockings  and  little 
buckled  shoes,  was  my  dream  girl ! 

Something  in  my  heart  turned  over  as  I 
looked  at  her.  It  was  not  that  she  had  started, 


44     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

for  she  had  not.  She  just  stood  in  front  of  us, 
poised  and  serene,  and  some  sort  of  a  letter  she 
had  been  writing  lay  half  finished  on  Dudley's 
desk.  But  something  totally  outside  me  told 
me  she  had  been  writing  no  letter  while  we 
were  out ;  that  she  knew  the  combination  of  the 
safe;  had  opened  it;  had  but  just  shut  it;  and— 
that  she  had  been  doing  something  to  the  boxes 
of  gold  inside  it. 

There  was  nothing  in  her  face  to  say  so, 
though,  and  my  thought  never  struck  Dudley. 
He  gave  her  a  nod  and  a  patronizing:  "  Well, 
nice  girl,"  without  the  least  surprise  at  seeing 
her  there.  But  I  had  seen  a  pin  dot  of  blue 
sealing  wax  on  the  glimpse  of  white  blouse  that 
showed  through  the  open  front  of  her  sweater, 
and  something  else.  I  stooped,  while  Dudley 
was  fussing  with  the  lock  of  his  desk,  and 
picked  up  a  curious  little  gold  seal  that  lay  on 
the  floor  by  the  safe. 

Whether  I  meant  to  speak  of  it  or  not  I 
don't  know ;  for  quick  as  light,  the  girl  held  out 
her  hand  for  it.  I  said  nothing  as  I  gave  it  to 
her.  Dudley  did  not  see  me  do  it;  and,  of 
course,  it  might  have  been  a  seal  of  his  own. 
But,  if  it  were,  why  did  not  Paulette  Brown 
say  so, — or  say  something — instead  of  stand- 
ing dead  white  and  silent  till  I  turned  away? 

I  knew — as  I  said  "  Oh  "  over  Dudley's 
gold,  and  my  dream  girl  slipped  out  of  the 


Dudley's  Mine:   Dudley's  Gold    45 

room — that  I  had  helped  her  to  keep  some  kind 
of  a  secret  for  the  second  time.  And  that  if 
she  had  any  mysterious  business  at  La  Chance 
it  was  something  fishy  about  Dudley's  gold ! 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  MAN  IN  THE  DARK 

IT  sounded  crazy,  for  what  could  a  girl  like 
that  do  to  gold  that  was  securely  packed? 
But  women  had  been  mixed  up  in  ugly  work 
about  gold  before,  and  somehow  the  vision  of 
my  dream  girl  standing  by  the  safe  stuck  to 
me  all  that  day.  Suppose  I  had  helped  her  to 
cover  up  a  theft  from  Dudley !  It  was  funny ; 
but  the  ludicrous  side  of  it  did  not  strike  me. 
What  did  was  that  I  must  see  her  alone  and 
get  rid  of  the  poisonous  distrust  of  her  that 
she,  or  Marcia,  had  put  into  my  head.  But 
that  day  went  by,  and  two  more  on  top  of  it, 
and  I  had  no  chance  to  speak  to  Paulette 
Brown. 

Part  of  the  reason  was  that  I  had  not  a  sec- 
ond to  call  my  own.  La  Chance  had  been  an 
amateur  mine  when  we  began  it,  and  it  was  one 
still.  There  was  only  Dudley— who  did  noth- 
ing, and  was  celebrating  himself  stupid  with 
drugs,  or  I  was  much  mistaken — Macartney, 
and  myself  to  run  it;  with  not  enough  "men 


The  Man  in  the  Dark          47 

even  to  get  out  the  ore,  without  working  the 
mill  and  the  amalgam  plates.  It  had  been  no 
particular  matter  while  the  whole  mine  was 
only  a  tentative  business,  and  I  had  been  hav- 
ing half  a  fit  at  Dudley's  mad  extravagance  in 
putting  up  a  ten-stamp  mill  when  we  had  noth- 
ing particular  to  crush  in  it.  But  now,  with 
ore  that  ran  over  a  hundred  to  the  ton  being 
fed  into  the  mill,  and  Macartney  and  I  doing 
the  work  of  six  men  instead  of  two,  I  agreed 
with  Dudley  when  he  announced  in  a  sober  in- 
terval that  we  required  a  double  shift  of  men 
and  the  mill  to  crush  day  and  night,  instead  of 
stopping  at  dark, — besides  a  cyanide  plant  and 
a  man  to  run  it. 

But  Macartney  unexpectedly  jibbed  at  the 
idea.  He  returned  bluntly  that  he  could  at- 
tend to  the  cyanide  business  himself,  when  it 
was  really  needed;  while  as  to  extra  men  he 
could  not  watch  a  night  shift  at  the  plates  as 
well  as  a  day  one,  and  he  would  have  to  be 
pretty  sure  of  the  honesty  of  his  new  amalgam 
man  before  he  started  in  to  get  one.  Also — 
and  it  struck  me  as  a  sentiment  I  had  never 
heard  from  a  mine  superintendent  before — 
that  if  we  sent  out  for  men  half  of  those  we 
got  might  be  riffraff  and  make  trouble  for  us, 
without  so  much  as  a  sheriff  within  a  hundred 
miles.  '  I'd  sooner  pick  up  new  men  one  at  a 
time,"  he  concluded,  "  even  if  it  takes  a  month. 


48     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

We've  ladies  here,  and  if  we  got  in  a  gang  of 

tramps "  he  gave  a  shrug  and  a  significant 

glance  at  Dudley. 

"  Why,  we've  some  devils  out  of  purgatory 
now,"  I  began  scornfully,  and  stopped, — be- 
cause Dudley  suddenly  agreed  with  Macart- 
ney. But  the  waste  of  time  in  making  the 
mine  pay  for  itself  and  the  stopping  of  the  mill 
at  night  galled  me;  and  so  did  the  work  I  had 
to  do  from  dawn  to  dark,  because  any  two- 
dollar-a-day  man  could  have  done  it  instead. 

Macartney  seemed  to  be  made  of  iron,  for 
hfe  took  longer  hours  than  I  did.  But  he  could 
talk  to  Marcia  Wilbraham  in  the  evenings, 
while  Dudley  stood  between  me  and  the  dream 
girl  I  thought  had  come  true  for  me  when  first 
I  came  to  La  Chance. 

I  watched  her,  though;  I  couldn't  help  it. 
There  were  times  when  I  could  have  sworn  her 
soul  matched  her  body  and  she  was  honest  all 
through ;  and  times  when  a  devil  rose  up  in  me 
and  bade  me  doubt  her;  till  between  work  and 
worry  I  was  no  nearer  finding  out  the  kind  she 
really  was  thai:  J:o  discovering  the  man  she  had 
meant  to  speak  to  in  the  dark  the  night  she 
blundered  on  me.  Yet  I  had  some  sort  of  a 
clue  there,  if  it  were  not  much  of  one.  Dunn 
and  Collins,  our  two  slackers  who  had  been 
kicked  out  of  Yale  to  land  in  our  bunk  house, 
evidently  had  some  game  on.  Dunn  I  was  not 


The  Man  in  the  Dark          49 

much  bothered  about:  he  was  just  a  plain 
good-for-nothing,  with  a  perennial  chuckle. 
But  Collins  was  a  different  story.  Tall,  pale, 
long-eyelashed,  his  blas6  young  face  barely 
veiled  a  mind  that  was  an  encyclopaedia  of  sin, 
— or  I  was  much  mistaken.  And  he  and 
Dunn  had  suddenly  ceased  to  raise  Hades  in 
the  bunk  house  every  night  and  developed  a 
taste  for  going  to  bed  with  the  hens.  At  least, 
the  snoring  bunk  house  thought  so.  If  they 
went  abroad  instead  on  whatever  they  were  up 
to,  I  never  caught  them  at  it;  but  I  did  catch 
them  watching  me,  like  lynxes,  whenever  they 
were  off  shift.  I  never  saw  either  of  them  speak 
to  Miss  Brown,  but  I  got  a  good  growing  idea 
it  was  just  Collins  she  had  meant  to  interview 
the  night  she  spoke  to  me:  and  it  fitted  in  well 
enough  with  my  doubts  about  her  and  Dud- 
ley's gold,  for  I  would  have  put  no  gold  steal- 
ing past  Collins.  As  for  Paulette  Brown  her- 
self, I  could  see  no  earthly  sense  in  Marcia's 
silly  statement  that  "  she  was  afraid  for  her 
life — or  Dudley's."  She  was  afraid  of  Dud- 
ley, I  could  see  that;  for  she  shrank  from  him 
quite  often.  But  on  the  other  hand,  I  saw  her 
follow  him  into  his  office  one  night,  when  he 
was  fit  for  no  girl  to  tackle,  and  try  to  get  him 
to  listen  to  something.  From  outside  I  heard 
her  beg  him  to  "  please  listen  and  try  to  under- 
stand "  —and  I  made  her  a  sign  from  the  door- 


50     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

way  to  come  away  before  he  flew  at  her.  I 
asked  her  if  there  were  anything  I  could  do, 
and  she  said  no;  it  was  only  something  she 
wanted  to  tell  Dudley.  But  suddenly  she 
looked  at  me  with  those  clear  eyes  of  hers. 
"  You're  very — good  to  me,"  she  said  rather 
piteously. 

I  shook  my  head,  and  that  minute  I  believed 
in  her  utterly.  But  the  next  night  I  had  a  jar. 
I  was  starting  for  Caraquet  the  morning  after, 
with  the  gold  Dudley  had  in  his  office,  so  I  was 
late  in  the  stable,  putting  washers  on  my  light 
wagon,  and  came  home  by  a  short  cut  through 
the  bush,  long  after  dark.  If  I  moved  Indian- 
silent  in  my  moccasins  it  was  because  I  always 
did.  But — halfway  to  the  shack  clearing — I 
stopped  short,  wolf -silent;  which  is  different. 
Close  by,  invisible  in  the  dark  spruces,  I  heard 
Paulette  Brown  speaking;  and  knew  that  once 
more  she  was  meeting  a  man  in  the  dark,  and, 
this  time,  the  right  one!  I  could  not  see  him 
any  more  than  I  could  hear  him,  for  he  did  not 
speak;  but  I  knew  he  was  there.  I  crouched 
to  make  a  blind  jump  for  him — and  my  dream 
girl's  voice  held  me  still. 

"  I  don't  care  how  you  threaten  me:  you've 
got  to  go"  she  said  doggedly.  "  I  know  I've 
my  own  safety  to  look  after,  but  I'll  chance 
that.  I'll  give  you  one  week  more.  Then,  if 
you  dare  to  stay  on  here,  and  interfere  with  me 


The  Man  in  the  Dark          51 

or  the  gold  or  anything  else,  I'll  confess  every- 
thing to  Dudley  Wilbraham.  I  nearly  did  it 
last  night.  I  won't  trust  you — even  if  it 
means  your  giving  away  my  hiding  place  to 
the  police! " 

Whoever  she  spoke  to  moved  infinitesimally 
in  the  dark.  He  must  have  muttered  some- 
thing I  could  not  hear,  for  the  girl  answered 
sharply:  "As  for  that,  I'm  done  with  you! 
Whether  you  go  or  don't  go,  this  is  the  last 
time  I'll  ever  sneak  out  to  meet  you.  When 
you  dare  to  say  you  love  me  " — and  once  more 
the  collected  hatred  in  her  voice  staggered  me, 
only  this  time  I  was  thankful  for  it—  "  I  could 
die !  I  won't  hear  of  what  you  say,  remember, 
but  I'll  give  you  one  week's  chance.  Then — 
or  if  you  try  anything  on  with  me  and  the  gold 
—I'll  tell!" 

There  was  no  answer.  But  my  blood 
jumped  in  me  with  sheer  fury,  for  answer  or 
no  answer,  I  knew  who  the  man  beside  her  was. 
Close  by  me  I  heard  Dunn's  unmistakable 
chuckle :  and  where  Dunn  was  Collins  was  too. 
I  behaved  like  a  fool.  I  should  have  bounced 
through  the  bush  and  grabbed  Dunn  at  least, 
which  might  have  stopped  some  of  the  awful 
work  that  was  to  come.  But  I  stood  still, 
till  a  sixth  sense  told  me  Collins  was  gone, 
just  as  I  could  have  gone  myself,  without 
sound  or  warning.  Yet  even  then  I  paused 


52     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

instead  of  going  after  him.  First,  because 
I  had  no  desire  to  give  my  reason  for  dis- 
missing him  next  morning;  second,  be- 
cause I  had  a  startling,  ghastly  thought  that 
I'd  heard  Macartney's  quiet,  characteristic 
footstep  moving  away, — and  if  a  hard,  set- 
eyed  man  like  our  capable  superintendent  had 
been  out  listening  to  what  a  girl  said  to  Collins, 
as  I  had,  I  didn't  know  how  in  the  devil  I  was 
to  make  him  hold  his  tongue  about  it.  And  in 
the  middle  of  that  pleasant  thought  my  dream 
girl  spoke  again,  to  herself  this  time:  "  Oh,  I 
can't  trust  him!  I'll  have  to  get  hold  of  the 
gold  myself — at  least  all  I've  marked." 

On  the  top  of  her  words  a  wolf  howled 
startlingly,  close  by.  It  was  evidently  the  last 
touch  on  what  must  have  been  a  cheerful  even- 
ing, for  Paulette  Brown  gave  one  appalled 
spring  and  was  gone,  fleeing  for  the  kitchen 
door.  I  am  not  slow  on  my  feet.  I  was  in 
the  front  way  before  she  struck  the  back  one. 
From  the  front  door  I  observed  the  living 
room,  and  what  I  saw  inside  it  before  I  strolled 
in  there  made  me  catch  my  breath  with  relief 
and  comforting  security  for  the  first  time  that 
night.  Macartney  could  not  have  been  out 
listening  in  the  dark,  if  I  had.  He  sat  lazily 
in  the  living  room,  talking  to  Marcia,  with  his 
feet  in  old  patent  leather  shoes  he  could  never 
have  run  in,  even  if  it  had  not  been  plain  he  had 


The  Man  in  the  Dark          53 

not  been  out-of-doors  at  all.  Marcia  had  evi- 
dently not  been  spying  either,  which  was  a 
comfort ;  and  Dudley  was  out  of  the  question, 
for  he  dozed  by  the  fire,  palpably  half  asleep. 
But  suddenly  I  had  a  fright.  The  girl  who 
entered  the  living  room  five  minutes  behind  me 
had  very  plainly  been  out;  and  I  was  terrified 
that  Marcia  would  notice  her  wind-blown  hair. 
I  spoke  to  her  as  she  passed  me.  '  You're 
losing  a  hairpin  on  the  left  side  of  your  head," 
was  all  I  said.  And  much  I  got  for  it.  My 
dream  girl  tucked  in  her  wildly  flying  curl  with 
that  sleight  of  hand  women  use  and  never  even 
looked  at  me.  But  the  thing  was  done,  and  I 
had  covered  up  her  tracks  for  the  third  time. 

I  decided  to  fire  Collins  before  breakfast  the 
next  morning  and  get  off  to  Caraquet  straight 
after.  But  I  didn't ;  and  I  did  not  fire  Collins, 
either.  When  I  went  to  the  bunk  house  and 
then  to  the  mine,  where  he  was  a  rock  man,  he 
had  apparently  fired  himself,  as  Paulette  had 
told  him  to.  He  was  nowhere  to  be  found, 
anyhow,  or  Dunn  either.  I  wasted  an  hour 
hunting  for  him,  and  after  that  Macartney 
wanted  me,  so  that  it  was  late  afternoon  before 
I  could  load  up  my  gold  and  get  off.  And  as 
I  opened  the  safe  in  Dudley's  office  I  swore. 

There  were  four  boxes  of  the  stuff;  small, 
for  easy  handling;  and  if  I  had  had  time  I 
would  have  opened  every  hanged  one  of  them. 


54     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

Even  as  it  was,  I  determined  to  do  no  forward- 
ing from  Caraquet  till  I  knew  what  something 
on  them  meant.  For  on  each  box,  just  as  I 
had  expected  even  before  I  heard  Paulette 
Brown  say  she  had  marked  them,  was  a  tiny 
seal  in  blue  wax! 

The  reason  for  any  seal  knocked  me  utterly, 
but  I  couldn't  wait  to  worry  over  it.  No  one 
else  saw  it,  for  I  loaded  the  boxes  into  my 
wagon  myself,  and  there  was  nobody  about  to 
see  me  off.  Dudley  was  dead  to  the  world,  as 
I'd  known  he  was  getting  ready  to  be  for  a 
week  past ;  Marcia,  to  her  fury,  had  had  to  re- 
tire to  bed  with  a  swelled  face ;  and  Macartney 
was  the  only  other  person  who  knew  my  light 
wagon  and  pair  of  horses  was  taking  our 
clean-up  into  Caraquet, — except  Paulette 
Brown ! 

And  there  was  no  sign  of  her  anywhere. 
I  had  not  expected  there  would  be,  but  I 
was  sore  all  the  same.  I  had  helped  her  out 
of  difficulties  three  times,  and  all  I'd  got  for  it 
was— nothing!  I  saw  Macartney  coming  up 
from  the  mill,  and  yelled  to  him  to  come  and 
hold  my  horses,  while  I  went  back  to  my  room 
for  a  revolver.  This  was  from  sheer  habit. 
The  snow  still  held  off,  and  before  me  was 
nothing  more  exciting  than  a  cold  drive  over  a 
bad  road  that  was  frozen  hard  as  a  board,  a  halt 
at  the  Halfway  stables  to  change  horses,  and 


The  Man  in  the  Dark          55 

perhaps  the  society  of  Billy  Jones  as  far  as 
Caraquet, — if  he  wanted  to  go  there.  The 
only  other  human  being  I  could  possibly  meet 
might  be  some  one  from  Skunk's  Misery, 
though  that  was  unlikely;  the  denizens  of 
Skunk's  Misery  had  few  errands  that  took 
them  out  on  roads.  So  I  pocketed  my  gun 
mechanically.  But  as  I  went  out  again  I 
stopped  short  in  the  shack  door. 

My  dream  girl,  whom  I'd  never  been  alone 
with  for  ten  minutes,  sat  in  my  wagon,  with 
my  reins  in  her  hands.  "  My  soul,"  I  thought, 
galvanized,  "  she  can't  be — she  must  be — com- 
ing with  me  to  Caraquet ! " 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  CARAQUET  ROAD:   AND  THE  WOLVES 
HOWL  ONCE  MOEE 

Why  comest  thou  to  ride  with  me? 

"The  road,  this  night,  is  dark." 
Dost  thou  and  thine  .then  side  with  me? 

"Ride  on,  ride  on  and  hark!" 

The  Night  Ride. 

THERE  she  sat,  anyhow,  alone  except  for 
Macartney,  who  stood  at  the  horses'  heads. 
Wherever  she  was  going,  I  had  an  idea  he  was 
as  surprised  about  it  as  I  was,  and  that  he  had 
been  expostulating  with  her  about  her  expedi- 
tion. But,  if  he  had,  he  shut  up  as  I  appeared. 
I  could  only  stammer  as  I  stared  at  Paulette, 
'  You — you're  not  coming!  " 

"  I  seem  to  be,"  she  returned  placidly.  And 
Macartney  gave  me  the  despairing  glance  of  a 
sensible  man  who  had  tried  his  best  to  head  off 
a  girl's  silly  whim,  and  failed. 

"  It's  as  you  like,"  he  said — to  her,  not  to 
me.  "  But  you  understand  you  can't  get  back 
to-night,  if  you  go  to  Caraquet.  And — Good 
heavens — you  ought  not  to  go,  if  you  want  the 


The  Caraquet  Road  57 

truth  of  it!  There's  nothing  to  see — and 
you'll  get  half  frozen — and  you  mayn't  get 
back  for  days,  if  it  snows !  " 

Paulette  Brown  looked  at  him  as  if  he  were 
not  there.  Then  she  laughed.  "  I  didn't  say 
I  was  going  to  Caraquet!  If  you  want  to 
know  all  about  my  taking  a  chance  for  a  drive 
behind  a  pair  of  good  horses,  Miss  Wilbraham 
wants  Billy  Jones's  wife  to  come  over  for  a 
week  and  work  for  her.  I'm  going  to  stay  all 
night  with  Mrs.  Jones  and  bring  her  back  in 
the  morning.  She'll  never  leave  Billy  unless 
she's  fetched.  So  I  really  think  you  needn't 
worry,  Mr.  Macartney,"  she  paused,  and  I 
thought  I  saw  him  wince.  "  I'm  not  going  to 
be  a  nuisance  either  to  you  or  Mr.  Stretton," 
and  before  he  had  a  chance  to  answer  she 
started  up  the  horses.  I  had  just  time  to  take 
a  flying  jump  and  land  in  the  wagon  beside  her 
as  she  drove  off. 

Macartney  exclaimed  sharply,  and  I  didn't 
wonder.  If  he  had  not  jumped  clear  the  near 
wheels  must  have  struck  him.  I  lost  the 
angry,  startled  sentence  he  snapped  out.  But 
it  could  have  been  nothing  in  particular,  for  my 
dream  girl  only  turned  in  her  seat  and  smiled 
at  him. 

I  had  no  smile  as  I  took  the  reins  from  her. 
I  had  wanted  a  chance  to  be  alone  with  her, 
and  I  had  it:  but  I  knew  better  than  to  think 


58  The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery- 
she  was  going  to  Billy  Jones's  for  the  sake  of  a 
drive  with  me.  The  only  real  thought  I  had 
was  that  behind  me,  in  the  back  of  the  wagon, 
were  the  boxes  of  gold  she  had  marked  inex- 
plicably with  her  blue  seal,  and  that  I  had 
heard  her  say  the  night  before  that  she  "  would 
have  to  get  that  gold !  " 

How  she  meant  to  do  it  was  beyond  me ;  and 
it  was  folly  to  think  she  ever  could  do  it,  with 
six  feet  of  a  man's  strength  beside  her.  But 
nevertheless,  when  you  loved  a  girl  for  no  other 
earthly  reason  than  that  she  was  your  dream  of 
a  girl  come  true,  and  even  though  she  belonged 
to  another  man,  it  was  no  thought  with  which 
to  start  on  a  lonely  drive  with  her.  I  set  my 
teeth  on  it  and  never  opened  them  for  a  solid 
mile  over  the  hummocky  road  through  the  end- 
less spruce  bush,  behind  which  the  sun  had  al- 
ready sunk.  I  could  feel  my  dream  girl's 
shoulder  where  she  sat  beside  me,  muffled  in  a 
sable-lined  coat  of  Dudley's:  and  the  sweet 
warmth  of  her,  the  faint  scent  of  her  gold- 
bronze  hair,  made  me  afraid  to  speak,  even  if  I 
had  known  what  I  wanted  to  say. 

But  suddenly  she  spoke  to  me.  "  Mr.  Stret- 
ton,  you're  not  angry  with  me  for  coming  with 
you?" 

"  You  know  I'm  not."  But  I  did  not  know 
what  I  was.  Any  one  who  has  read  as  far  as 
this  will  know  that  if  ever  a  plain,  stupid  fool 


The  Caraquet  Road  59 

walked  this  world,  it  was  I, — Nicholas  Dane 
Stretton.  Put  me  in  the  bush,  or  with  horses, 
and  I'm  useful  enough, — but  with  men  and 
women  I  seem  to  go  blind  and  dumb.  I  know 
I  never  could  read  a  detective  story;  the  clues 
and  complications  always  made  me  feel  dizzy. 
I  was  pretty  well  dazed  where  I  sat  beside  that 
girl  I  knew  I  ought  to  find  out  about,  and  her 
nearness  did  not  help  me  to  ask  her  ugly  ques- 
tions. If  she  had  not  been  Dudley's, — but  I 
broke  the  thought  short  off.  I  said  to  myself 
impersonally  that  it  was  impossible  for  a  girl 
to  do  any  monkey  tricks  about  the  La  Chance 
gold  with  a  man  like  me.  Yet  I  wondered  if 
she  meant  to  try! 

But  she  showed  no  sign  of  it.  "I  had  to 
come,"  she  said  gently.  "  Marcia  really  wants 
Billy  Jones's  wife:  she  won't  let  me  wait  on 
her,  and  of  course  Charliet  can't  do  it.  You 
believe  me,  don't  you?  I  didn't  come  just  for 
a  drive  with  you !  " 

I  believed  that  well  enough,  and  I  nodded. 

'  Then,"  said  my  dream  girl  quietly,  "  will 
you  please  stop  the  horses? " 

I  looked  round.  We  were  miles  from  the 
mine,  around  a  turn  where  the  spruce  bush 
ceased  for  a  long  stretch  of  swamp, — bare,  fea- 
tureless, and  frozen.  Then,  for  the  first  time, 
I  looked  at  Dudley's  girl  that  I  was  fool 
enough  to  love. 


6o~     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

"What  for?"  I  demanded.  "I  mean,  of 
course,  if  you  like,"  for  I  saw  she  was  white  to 
the  lips,  though  her  eyes  met  mine  steadily,  like 
a  man's.  "  Do  you  mean  you  want  to  go 
back? " 

She  shook  her  head  almost  absently.  "  No: 
I  think  there's  something  bumping  around  in 
the  back  of  the  wagon.  I " — there  was  a 
sharp,  nervous  catch  in  her  voice—  "  want  to 
find  out  what  it  is." 

I  had  packed  the  wagon,  and  I  knew  there 
was  nothing  in  it  to  bump.  But  I  stopped  the 
horses.  I  wondered  if  the  girl  beside  me  had 
some  sort  of  baby  revolver  and  thought  she 
could  hold  me  up  with  it,  if  I  let  her  get  out; 
and  I  knew  just  what  I  would  do  if  she  tried  it. 
I  smiled  as  I  waited.  But  she  did  not  get  out. 
She  turned  in  her  seat  and  reached  backwards 
into  the  back  of  the  wagon,  as  if  she  had  neither 
bones  nor  joints  in  her  lovely  body.  Marcia 
was  right  when  she  said  it  was  perfectly  edu- 
cated and  trained.  For  a  moment  I  could 
think  of  nothing  but  the  marvellous  grace  of 
her  movement  as  she  slid  her  hand  under  the 
tarpaulin  that  covered  the  gold ;  then  I  thought 
I  heard  her  catch  her  breath  with  surprise. 
But  she  turned  back  with  an  exquisite  lithe 
grace  that  made  me  catch  mine,  and  slid  down 
in  her  seat  as  if  she  had  never  slid  out  of  it. 

"  It's  a  bottle,"  she  said  lightly.     But  it  was 


The  Caraquet  Road  61 

with  a  kind  of  startled  puzzle  too,  as  if  she  had 
sooner  expected  dynamite.  "  I  can't  think 
why ;  I  mean,  I  wonder  what's  in  it ! " 

"  A  bottle!  "  I  jerked  around  to  stare  at  a 
whisky  bottle  in  her  hands.  It  was  tightly 
sealed  and  full  of  something  colorless  that 
looked  like  gin.  I  was  just  going  to  say  I 
could  not  see  where  it  had  come  from,  seeing  I 
had  packed  the  wagon  myself,  and  I  would 
have  gone  bail  there  was  no  bottle  in  it.  But 
it  came  over  me  that  she  might  be  pretending 
astonishment  and  have  put  the  thing  there  her- 
self while  I  was  in  my  room  getting  my  re- 
volver; since  there  had  been  no  one  else  near 
my  wagon  but  Macartney,  and  he  could  not 
have  left  the  horses'  heads.  It  flashed  on  me 
that  the  baby  beside  me,  being  used  to  Dudley, 
might  have  drugged  a  little  gin,  thinking  I 
would  take  various  drinks  on  the  way;  and  I 
nearly  laughed  out.  But  I  said:  "  Back  there 
was  no  place  for  a  bottle.  It's  a  wonder  it 
didn't  smash  on  the  first  bump!  " 

"Yes,"  said  Paulette  slowly.  "Only  I 
wonder — I  mean  I  can't  see-  '  and  she 
paused,  staring  at  the  bottle  with  a  thoughtful 
sort  of  frown.  "  I  believe  I'll  hold  it  on  my 
lap." 

I  was  looking  at  the  bottle  too,  wliere  she 
held  it  with  both  fur-gloved  hands ;  and  I  for- 
got to  wonder  if  she  were  lying  about  it  or  not. 


62     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

For  the  gloves  she  wore  were  Dudley  Wilbra- 
ham's,  as  well  as  the  coat, — and  that  any  of 
Dudley's  things  should  be  on  my  dream  girl 
put  me  in  a  black,  senseless  fury.  I  wanted  to 
take  them  straight  off  her  and  wrap  her  up  in 
my  own  belongings.  I  grabbed  at  anything  to 
say  that  would  keep  my  tongue  from  telling 
her  to  change  coats  with  me  that  instant,  and 
the  bottle  in  her  hand  was  the  only  thing  that 
occurred  to  me.  It  brought  a  sudden  recollec- 
tion back  to  me  anyhow,  and  I  opened  my  lips 
quite  easily. 

"  Scott,  that  looks  like  some  of  the  brew  I 
spilled  over  my  clothes  at  Skunk's  Misery !  " 

"Skunk's  Misery!"  Paulette  exclaimed 
sharply.  '  What  on  earth  is  Skunk's  Mis- 
ery?" 

"  A  village — at  least,  a  den — of  dirt,  chiefly ; 
off  this  road,  between  Caraquet  and  Lac  Trem- 
blant."  I  was  thankful  to  have  something  to 
think  about  that  was  neither  her,  or  me,  or 
Dudley.  I  made  as  long  a  story  as  I  could  of 
my  stay  in  Skunk's  Misery  when  I  took  home 
the  half -killed  boy;  of  the  filthy  stuff  I  had 
spilled  on  my  clothes,  and  how  I  had  seen  a 
wolf  carry  them  off.  "  By  George,  I  believe 
he  liked  the  smell — though  I  never  thought  of 
that  till  now!" 

'What?"  Paulette  gave  a  curious  start 
that  might  have  been  wonder,  or  enlighten- 


The  Caraquet  Road  63 

ment.  "  And  you  got  the  stuff  at  Skunk's 
Misery,  out  of  a  bottle  like  this?  Oh,  I  ought 
to  have  guessed " — but  she  either  checked 
herself,  or  her  pause  was  absolutely  natural — 
"  I  should  have  guessed  you'd  had  some  sort  of 
a  horrible  time  that  night  you  came  home. 
You  looked  so  tired.  But  what  I  meant  to  say 
was  I  don't  see  how  such  poor  people  would 
have  a  bottle  of  anything.  Didn't  they  say 
what  it  was? " 

"  Didn't  ask !  It  looked  like  gin,  and  it 
smelt  like  a  sulphide  factory  when  it  got  on 
my  clothes.  They  certainly  had  that  bottle." 

"  Well,  Skunk's  Misery  hasn't  got  this  bot- 
tle, anyhow ! "  I  could  see  no  reason  for  the 
look  on  her  face.  It  was  not  gay  any  more ;  it 
was  stern,  if  a  girl's  face  can  be  stern,  and  it 
was  white  with  angry  suspicion.  Suddenly 
she  laughed,  rather  fiercely.  "  I'm  glad  I 
thought  of  it  before  the  jolting  broke  it  in  the 
wagon!  I  want  to  get  it  safely  to  Billy 
Jones's." 

The  reason  why  beat  me,  since  she  had  pre- 
tended to  know  nothing  of  it,  so  I  said  nothing. 
After  a  long  silence  Paulette  sighed. 

'  You've  been  very  kind  to  me,  Mr.  Stret- 
ton,"  she  said,  as  if  she  had  been  thinking.  "  I 
wish  you  could  see  your  way  to — trusting 
me!" 

"  I  don't  know  how  I've  been  kind,"  I  left 


64  The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery- 
out  the  trusting  part.  "  I  have  hardly  seen 
you  to  speak  to  till  to-night,  except,"  and  I 
said  it  deliberately,  "  the  first  time  I  ever  saw 
you,  sitting  by  the  fire  at  La  Chance.  You 
did  speak  to  me  then." 

"  Was  that — the  first  time  you  saw  me? " 
It  might  have  been  forgetfulness,  or  a  chal- 
lenge to  repeat  what  she  had  said  to  me  by  the 
lake  in  the  dark.  But  I  was  not  going  to  re- 
peat that.  Something  told  me,  as  it  had  told 
me  when  I  came  on  her  by  Dudley's  fire- 
though  it  was  for  a  different  reason,  now  that 
I  knew  she  was  his  and  not  mine — that  I  would 
be  a  fool  to  fight  my  own  thoughts  of  her  with 
explanations,  even  if  she  chose  to  make  any.  I 
looked  directly  into  her  face  instead.  All  I 
could  see  was  her  eyes,  that  were  just  dark 
pools  in  the  dusk,  and  her  mouth,  oddly  grave 
and  unsmiling.  But  then  and  there — and  any 
one  who  thinks  me  a  fool  is  welcome  to — my 
ugly  suspicions  of  her  died.  And  I  could  have 
died  of  shame  myself  to  think  I  had  ever  har- 
bored them.  If  she  had  done  things  I  could 
not  understand — and  she  had — I  knew  there 
must  be  a  good  reason  for  them.  For  the  rest, 
in  spite  of  Marcia  and  her  silly  mysteries,  and 
even  though  she  belonged  to  Dudley,  she  was 
my  dream  girl,  and  I  meant  to  stand  by  her. 

;'  That  was  the  first  time  I  spoke  to  you,"  I 
said,  as  if  there  had  been  no  pause.  "  After 


The  Caraquet  Road  65 

that,  I  picked  up  a  seal  for  you,  and  I  told  you 
your  hair  was  untidy  before  Marcia  could.  I 
think  those  are  all  the  enormously  kind  things 
I've  ever  done  for  you.  But,  if  you  want 
kindness,  you  know  where  to  come!  " 

"  Without  telling  you  things — and  when 
you  don't  trust  me!  " 

"  Telling  things  never  made  a  man  trust 
any  one,"  said  I.  "  And  besides,"  it  was  so 
dark  now,  as  we  crawled  along  the  side  of  the 
long  rocky  hill  that  followed  the  swamp,  that  I 
had  to  look  hard  to  see  her  face,  "  I  never  said 
I  didn't  trust  you.  And  there  isn't  anything 
you  could  tell  me  that  I  want  to  know !  " 

"  Oh,"  Paulette  cried  as  sharply  as  if  I  had 
struck  her,  "  do  you  mean  you're  taking  me  on 
trust — in  spite  of  everything?  " 

"  In  spite  of  nothing."  I  laughed.  I  was 
not  going  to  have  her  think  I  knew  about  Col- 
lins, much  more  all  the  stuff  Marcia  had  said. 
But  she  turned  her  head  and  looked  at  me  with 
a  curious  intentness. 

"  I'll  try,"  she  began  in  a  smothered  sort  of 
voice,  "  I  mean  I'm  not  all  you've  been  think- 
ing I  was,  Mr.  Stretton!  Only,"  passionately, 
and  it  was  the  last  thing  I  had  expected  her  to 
say,  "  I  wish  we  were  at  Billy  Jones's  with  all 
this  gold!" 

I  did  not,  whether  she  had  astonished  me  or 
not.  I  could  have  driven  all  night  with  her 


66     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

beside  me,  and  her  arm  touching  mine  when 
the  wagon  bumped  over  the  rocks. 

"  We're  halfway,"  I  returned  rather  cheer- 
lessly. "  Why?  You're  not  afraid  we'll  be 
held  up,  are  you?  No  human  being  ever  uses 
this  road." 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  of  human  beings,"  she 
returned  simply.  "  I  was  thinking  of  wolves." 

"  Wolves?  "  I  honestly  gasped  it.  Then 
I  laughed  straight  out.  "  I  can't  feel  particu- 
larly agitated  about  wolves.  I  know  we  had 
some  at  La  Chance,  but  we  probably  left  them 
there,  nosing  round  the  bunk-house  rubbish 
heap.  And  anyhow,  a  wolf  or  two  wouldn't 
trouble  us.  They're  cowardly  things,  unless 
they're  in  packs."  I  felt  exactly  as  if  I  were 
comforting  Red  Riding  Hood  or  some  one  in  a 
fairy  tale,  for  the  Lord  knows  it  had  never  oc- 
curred to  me  to  be  afraid  of  wolves.  '  What 
on  earth  put  wolves  in  your  head?  " 

"  I — don't  know !  They  seemed  to  be  about, 
lately." 

'  Well,  I  never  saw  any  on  this  road !     I've 
a  revolver,  anyhow." 

"  I'm  g-glad,"  said  Paulette;  and  the  word 
jerked  out  of  her,  and  my  arms  jerked  nearly 
out  of  me.  In  the  dark  the  wagon  had  hit 
something  that  felt  like  nothing  but  a  boulder 
in  the  middle  of  my  decent  road.  The  wagon 
stopped  dead,  with  an  up-ending  lurch,  and 


The  Caraquet  Road  67 

nothing  holding  it  to  the  horses  but  the  reins. 
Why  on  earth  they  held  I  don't  know.  For 
with  one  almighty  bound  my  two  young  horses 
tried  to  get  away  from  me, — and  they  would 
have,  if  the  reins  had  not  been  new  ones.  As 
it  was  I  had  a  minute's  hard  fighting  before  I 
got  them  under.  When  they  stood  still  the 
girl  beside  me  peered  over  the  front  of  the 
wagon  into  the  dark.  "  It's  the  whiffletree,  I 
think,"  she  said,  as  if  she  were  used  to  wagons. 

I  peered  over  myself  and  hoped  so. 
"  Mercy  if  it  is,"  said  I.  "  If  it's  a  wheel  we're 
stuck  here.  Scott,  I  wonder  if  I've  a  bit  of 
rope!" 

Paulette  Brown  pulled  out  ten  feet  of  spun 
yarn  from  under  her  coat ;  and  if  j^ou  come  to 
think  of  it,  it  was  a  funny  thing  for  a  girl  to 
have.  It  struck  me,  rather  oddly,  that  she 
must  have  come  prepared  for  accidents. 
'  There,"  she  said,  "  I  expect  you  can  patch 
us  up  if  I  hold  the  horses.  Here's  a  knife, 
too,  and  "  —I  turned  hot  all  over,  for  she  was 
putting  something  else  into  my  hand,  just  as 
if  she  knew  I  had  been  wondering  about  it 
since  first  we  started ;  but  she  went  on  without 
a  break — "  here's  my  revolver.  Put  it  in  your 
pocket.  I'd  sooner  you  kept  it." 

I  was  thankful  I  had  had  the  decency  to 
trust  her  before  she  gave  the  weapon  to  me. 
But  I  was  blazingly  angry  with  myself  when  I 


68  The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery- 
got  out  of  the  wagon  and  saw  just  what  had 
happened.  Fair  in  the  middle  of  my  new  road 
was  a  boulder  that  the  frost  must  have  loosened 
from  the  steep  hillside  that  towered  over  us; 
and  the  front  of  the  wagon  had  hit  it  square,— 
which  it  would  not  have  done  if  I  had  been 
looking  at  the  road  instead  of  talking  to  a  girl 
who  was  no  business  of  mine,  now  or  ever.  I 
got  the  horses  out  of  the  traces  and  the  pole 
straps,  and  let  Paulette  hold  them  while  I 
levered  the  boulder  out  of  the  way,  down  the 
hillside.  I  was  scared  to  do  it,  too,  for  fear 
they  would  get  away  from  her,  but  she  was  evi- 
dently as  used  to  horses  as  to  wagons :  Bob  and 
Danny  stood  for  her  like  lambs,  while  I  set  to 
work  to  repair  damages.  The  pole  was 
snapped,  and  the  whiffletree  smashed,  so  that 
the  traces  were  useless.  I  did  some  fair  jury 
work  with  a  lucky  bit  of  spruce  wood,  the  whif- 
fletree, and  the  axle,  and  got  the  pole  spliced. 
It  struck  me  that  even  so  we  should  have  to 
do  the  rest  of  the  way  to  Billy  Jones's  at  a 
walk,  but  I  saw  no  sense  in  saying  so.  I  got 
the  horses  back  on  the  pole,  and  Paulette  in 
the  wagon  holding  the  reins,  still  talking  to  the 
horses  quietly  and  by  name.  But  as  I  jumped 
up  beside  her  the  quiet  flew  out  of  her  voice. 

"  The  'bottle,"  she  all  but  shrieked  at  me. 
"  Mind  the  bottle! " 

But  I  had  not  noticed  she  had  put  it  on  my 


The  Caraquet  Road  69 

seat  when  she  got  out  to  hold  the  horses.  I 
knocked  it  flying  across  her,  and  it  smashed  to 
flinders  on  the  near  fore  wheel,  drenching  it 
and  splashing  over  Danny's  hind  legs.  I 
grabbed  the  reins  from  Paulette,  and  I  thought 
of  skunks,  and  a  sulphide  factory, — and  dead 
skunks  and  rotten  sulphide  at  that.  Even  in 
the  freezing  evening  air  the  smell  that  came 
from  that  smashed  bottle  was  beyond  anything 
on  earth  or  purgatory,  excepting  the  stuff  I 
had  spilt  over  myself  at  Skunk's  Misery. 
"  What  on  earth,"  I  began  stupidly.  "  Why, 
that's  that  Skunk's  Misery  filth  again!" 

Paulette's  hand  came  down  on  my  arm  with 
a  grip  that  could  not  have  been  wilder  if  she 
had  thought  the  awful  smell  meant  our  deaths. 
"  Drive  on,  will  you?  "  she  said  in  a  voice  that 
matched  it.  "Let  the  horses  go,  I  tell  you! 
If  there's  anything  left  in  that  bottle  it  may 
save  us  for  a — I  mean,"  she  caught  herself  up 
furiously,  "  it  may  save  me  from  being  sick. 
I  don't  know  how  you  feel.  But  for  heaven's 
sake  get  me  out  of  that  smell !  Oh,  why  didn't 
I  throw  the  thing  away  into  the  woods,  long 
ago?" 

I  wished  she  had.  The  stuff  was  on  Danny 
as  well  as  on  the  wheel,  and  we  smelt  like  a 
procession  of  dead  whales.  For  after  the  first 
choking  explosion  of  the  thing  it  reeked  of 
nothing  but  corruption.  It  was  the  Skunk's 


yo     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

Misery  brew  all  right,  only  a  thousand  times 
stronger. 

"  How  on  earth  did  Skunk's  Misery  filth  get 
in  my  wagon?  "  I  gasped.  And  if  I  had  been 
alone  I  would  have  spat. 

"  I — can't  tell  you,"  said  Paulette  shortly. 
"  Mr.  Stretton,  can't  you  hurry  the  horses? 
I Oh,  hurry  them,  please !  " 

I  saw  no  particular  reason  why;  we  could 
not  get  away  from  the  smell  of  the  wheel,  or  of 
Danny.  But  I  did  wind  them  up  as  much  as 
'I  dared  with  our  kind  of  a  pole, — and  sud- 
denly both  of  them  wound  themselves  up,  with 
a  jerk  to  try  any  pole,  I  had  all  I  could  do  to 
keep  them  from  a  dead  run,  and  if  I  knew  the 
reason  I  trusted  the  girl  beside  me  did  not.  It 
had  hardly  been  a  sound,  more  the  ghost  of  a 
sound.  But  as  I  thought  it  she  flung  up  her 
head. 

"What's  that?"  she  said  sharply.  "Mr. 
Stretton,  what's  that? " 

"Nothing,"  I  began;  and  changed  it. 
"  Just  a  wolf  or  two  somewhere." 

For  behind  us,  in  two,  three,  four  quarters 
at  once  rose  a  long  wailing  howl. 


CHAPTER  VI 

MOSTLY  WOLVES :  AND  A  GIRL 

Oh,  what  was  that  drew  screaming  breath? 

"A  wolf  that  slashed  at  me!" 
Oh,  who  was  that  cried  out  in  death? 

' '  A  man  who  struck  at  thee ! ' ' 

The  Night  Ride. 

THE  sound  might  have  come  from  a  country 
hound  or  two  baying  for  sheer  melancholy,  or 
after  a  cat :  only  there  were  neither  hounds  nor 
cats  on  the  Caraquet  road.  I  felt  Paulette 
stiffen  through  all  her  supple  body.  She  whis- 
pered to  herself  sharply,  as  if  she  were  swear- 
ing— only  afterwards  I  knew  better,  and  put 
the  word  she  used  where  it  belonged:  :<  The 
devil!  Oh,  the  devil!" 

I  made  no  answer.  I  had  enough  business 
holding  in  the  horses,  remembering  that  spliced 
pole.  Paulette  remembered  it  too,  for  she 
spoke  abruptly.  "  How  fast  do  you  dare  go?  " 

"  Oh,  not  too  fast,"  my  thoughts  were  still 
on  the  pole.  '  They're  not  after  us,  if  you're 
worrying  about  those  wolves." 

But  she  took  no  notice.  "  How  far  are  we 
from  Billy  Jones's?" 


72      The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

We  were  a  good  way.  But  I  said,  "  Oh,  a 
few  miles! " 

"  Well,  we've  got  to  make  it !  "  I  could  still 
feel  her  queerly  rigid  against  my  arm ;  perhaps 
it  was  only  because  she  was  listening.  But- 
quick,  like  life,  or  death,  or  anything  else  sud- 
den as  lightning — she  had  no  need  to  listen; 
nor  had  I.  A  burst  of  ravening  yells,  gather- 
ing up  from  all  sides  of  us  except  in  front, 
came  from  the  dark  bush.  And  I  yelled  my- 
self, at  Bob  and  Danny,  to  keep  them  off  the 
dead  run. 

It  was  rot,  of  course,  but  I  had  a  queer  feel- 
ing that  wolves  were  after  us,  and  that  it  was 
just  that  Skunk's  Misery  stuff  that  had  started 
them,  as  it  had  drawn  the  wolf  that  had  taken 
my  clothes.  I  could  hear  the  yelping  of  one 
after  another  grow  into  the  full-throated 
chorus  of  a  pack.  The  woods  were  full  of 
them. 

"I  didn't  think  he'd  dare,"  Paulette  ex- 
claimed, as  if  she  came  out  of  her  secret 
thoughts. 

But  it  did  not  bring  me  out  of  mine,  even  to 
remember  that  young  devil  Collins.  I  had 
pulled  out  my  gun  to  scare  the  wolves  with  a 
shot  or  two, — and  there  were  no  cartridges  in 
it!  I  could  not  honestly  visualize  myself  fill- 
ing it  up  the  night  before,  but  I  was  sure  I  had 
filled  it,  just  as  I  was  sure  I  had  never  troubled 


Mostly  Wolves:   And  a  Girl     73 

to  look  at  it  since.  But  of  course  I  could  not 
have,  or  it  would  not  have  been  empty  now.  I 
inquired  absently,  because  I  was  rummaging 
my  pockets  for  cartridges,  '  Who'd  dare? 
Whoa,  Bob!  What  he?  " 

"  They,"  Paulette  corrected  sharply.  "  I 
meant  the  wolves.  I  thought  they  were  cow- 
ards, but — they  don't  sound  cowardly!  I — 
Mr.  Stretton,  I  believe  I'm  worried!" 

So  was  I,  with  a  girl  to  take  care  of,  a  tied-on 
pole  and  whiffletree,  and  practically  no  gun; 
for  there  was  not  a  single  loose  cartridge  in  my 
pockets.  I  had  been  so  mighty  secure  about 
the  Caraquet  road  I  had  never  thought  of 
them.  I  cursed  inside  while  I  said  disjoint- 
edly,  "  Quiet,  Bob,  will  you? — There's  nothing 
to  be  afraid  of;  you'll  laugh  over  this  to- 
night !  "  Because  I  suddenly  hoped  so — if  the 
pole  held  to  the  Halfway — for  the  infernal 
clamor  behind  us  had  dropped  abruptly  to 
what  might  have  been  a  distant  dog  fight.  But 
at  a  sudden  note  in  it  the  sweat  jumped  to  my 
upper  lip. 

"Dunn  and  Collins!"  I  thought.  They 
had  been  missing  when  we  left.  Paulette  had 
said  she  did  not  trust  Collins,  and  since  he  had 
had  the  nous  to  get  hold  of  the  Skunk's  Misery 
wolf  dope,  he  or  Dunn  could  easily  have 
stowed  it  in  my  wagon  in  the  night,  and  been 
caught  by  it  themselves  where  they  had  started 


74     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

out  to  waylay  us  by  the  boulder  they  put  in  my 
road.  But  all  I  said  was,  "  The  wolves  have 
stopped! " 

"  Not  they,"  Paulette  retorted,  and  sud- 
denly knocked  me  silly  with  surprise.  "  Oh,  I 
haven't  done  you  a  bit  of  good  by  coming,  Mr. 
Stretton!  I  thought  if  I  were  with  you  I 
might  be  some  use,  and  I'm  not." 

I  stared  stupidly.  "  D'ye  mean  you  came 
to  fight  wolves? " 

"No!  I  came "  but  she  stopped.  "  I 

was  afraid — I  mean  I  hated  your  going  alone 
with  all  that  gold,  and  Marcia  really  wanted 
Mrs.  Jones." 

Any  other  time  I  would  have  rounded  on 
her  and  found  out  what  she  was  keeping  back, 
but  I  was  too  busy  thinking.  The  horses  had 
calmed  to  a  flying  trot  up  the  long  hill  along 
whose  side  we  had  been  crawling  when  the  pole 
went.  Once  over  the  crest  of  it  we  should  have 
done  two  miles  since  we  heard  the  first  wolf 
howl;  which  meant  we  were  nearer  to  Billy 
Jones's  than  I  had  remembered.  If  the  pole 
held  to  get  us  down  the  other  side  of  the  long 
hill  there  was  nothing  before  us  but  a  mile  of 
corduroy  road  through  a  jungle- thick  swamp 
of  hemlock,  and  then  the  one  bit  of  really  ex- 
cellent going  my  road  could  boast, — three  clear 
miles,  level  as  a  die,  straight  to  the  Halfway 
stables. 


Mostly  Wolves:   And  a  Girl     75 

"  We  haven't  far  now,"  said  I  shortly. 
"  And  it  doesn't  matter  why  you  came;  you've 
been  useful  enough !  I  couldn't  have  held  the 
horses  and  patched  the  wagon  too."  I  omitted 
to  say  I  could  have  tied  them  to  a  wheel. 
"  But  if  you're  nervous  now,  there's  one  thing 
we  could  do.  Can  you  ride?  " 

"Ride?"  I  thought  she  laughed.  "Yes! 
Why?" 

'  We  could  cut  the  horses  loose  and  ride 
them  in  to  the  Halfway." 

'  What?  And  leave  the  gold  out  here,  as 
we  were  m  —  I  knew  she  cut  off  "  meant 

to."  "I  won't  do  it!" 

'  Wolves  wouldn't  eat  it — and  there's  no 
one  to  steal  it,"  I  returned  matter-of-factly — 
because  if  Collins  had  meant  to,  the  sinister 
flurry  behind  us  had  decided  me  his  career  was 
closed.  "  However,  it  would  be  wasting  trou- 
ble to  leave  the  stuff;  there's  no  sign  of  any 
pack  after  us  now."  And  a  ravening  yell  cut 
the  words  off  my  tongue. 

The  brutes  must  have  scoured  after  us  in 
silence,  hunting  us  in  the  dark  for  the  last  mile. 
For  as  we  stood  out,  a  black  blot  on  the  hilltop 
against  the  night  sky,  they  broke  out  in  chorus 
just  behind  us,  for  all  the  world  like  a  pack  of 
hounds  who  had  treed  a  wildcat;  and  too  close 
for  any  fool  lying  to  occur  to  me. 

"  Paulette,"  I  blurted,  "  there's  not  a  car- 


76     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

tridge  in  my  gun !  Yours  is  so  little  I'm  afraid 
of  it.  But  it  may  scare  them.  Take  these 
reins ! " 

But  she  turned  in  her  seat  and  knelt  there, 
looking  behind  us.  If  I  could  have  got  her  on 
Danny's  back  and  let  her  run  clear  five  minutes 
ago  it  was  impossible  now.  No  human  being 
could  have  pulled  up  Bob  or  him. 

"  See  them?  "  I  snapped.  "  By  heaven,  I 
wish  the  brutes  would  stop  that  yelling;  they're 
driving  the  horses  crazy!  See  them?  " 

"  No.  But — yes,  yes,"  her  voice  flashed  out 
sharp  as  a  knife.  '  They're  on  us!  Give  me 
the  revolver,  quick !  I  can  shoot ;  and  I've  car- 
tridges. You  couldn't  do  any  good  with  it :  it 
throws  low — and  it's  too  small  for  your  hand. 
And  I  wouldn't  dare  drive.  I  might  get  off 
the  road,  and  we'd  be  done." 

It  was  so  true  that  I  did  not  even  turn  my 
head  as  I  shoved  over  her  little  gun.  I  had  no 
particular  faith  in  her  shooting;  my  trust  was 
in  the  horses'  speed.  We  were  getting  down 
the  hill  like  a  Niagara  of  galloping  hoofs  and 
wheels  over  a  road  I  had  all  I  could  do  to  see ; 
with  that  crazy  pole  I  dared  not  check  the 
horses  to  put  an  ounce  on.  I  stood  up  and 
drove  for  all  I  was  worth,  and  the  girl  beside 
me  shot, — and  hit!  For  a  yell  and  a  scream- 
ing flurry  rose  with  every  report  of  her  re- 
volver. It  was  a  beastly  noise,  but  it  rejoiced 


Mostly  Wolves:   And  a  Girl    77 

me ;  till  suddenly  I  heard  her  pant  out  a  sick- 
ened sentence  that  made  me  gasp,  because  it 
was  such  a  funny  thing  to  say. 

"  My  heavens,  I  never  thought  I  could  be 
cruel  to  animals — like  this.  But  I've  got  to  do 
it.  I " — her  voice  rose  in  sudden  disjointed 
triumph  — "  Mr.  Stretton,  I  believe  I've 
stopped  them ! " 

"  I  believe  you  have,"  I  swore  blankly, — and 
one  leapt  out  of  the  dark  by  the  fore  wheel  as 
I  spoke,  and  she  shot  it. 

But  it  was  the  last;  she  had  stopped  them. 
And  if  I  had  not  known  that  to  have  turned 
even  one  eye  from  my  horses  as  we  tore  down 
that  hill  would  have  meant  we  were  smashed 
up  on  one  side  of  it,  I  would  have  been  more 
ashamed  than  I  was  of  being  fought  for  by  a 
girl.  "  You're  a  wonder — just  a  marvellous 
wonder,"  I  got  out  thickly.  "  We're  clear — 
and  it's  thanks  to  you!  "  And  ahead  of  us,  in 
the  jungle-thick  hemlock  that  crowded  the 
sides  of  the  narrow  road  I  had  corduroyed 
through  the  swamp  for  a  ricketty  mile,  a  single 
wolf  howled. 

It  had  a  different,  curious  note,  a  dying 
note,  if  I  had  known  it;  but  I  did  not  realize  it 
then.  I  thought,  "We're  done!  They've 
headed  us ! "  I  said,  "  Look  out  ahead  for  all 
you're  worth.  If  we  can  keep  going,  we'll  be 
through  this  thicket  in  a  minute." 


78     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

But  Paulette  cut  out  my  thought.  '  We 
are  done,  if  they  throw  the  horses !  "  And  in- 
stantly, amazingly,  she  stood  up  in  the  bump- 
ing, 'swaying  wagon  as  if  she  were  on  a  dancing 
floor  and  shed  Dudley  Wilbraham's  coat.  She 
leaned  toward  me,  and  I  felt  rather  than  saw 
that  she  was  in  shirt  and  knickerbockers  like  a 
boy.  "  Keep  the  horses  going  as  steady  as  you 
can,  and  whatever  you  do,  don't  try  to  stop 
them.  I'm  going  to  do  something.  Mind, 
keep  them  galloping! " 

I  would  have  grabbed  her;  only  before  I 
knew  what  she  was  going  to  do  she  was  past 
me,  out  over  the  dashboard,  and  running  along 
the  smashed  pole  between  Bob  and  Danny  in 
the  dark. 

It  was  nothing  to  do  in  daylight.  I've  done 
it  myself  before  now,  and  so  have  most  men. 
But  for  a  girl,  in  the  dark  and  on  a  broken 
pole,  with  wolves  heading  the  horses, — I  was  so 
furiously  afraid  for  her  that  the  blood  stopped 
running  in  my  legs,  and  it  was  a  minute  before 
I  saw  what  she  was  after.  She  had  not 
slipped;  she  was  astride  Danny — ducking  un- 
der his  rein  neatly,  for  I  had  not  felt  the  sign 
of  a  jerk — but  only  God  knew  what  might 
happen  to  her  if  he  fell.  And  suddenly  I 
knew  what  she  had  run  out  there  to  do.  She 
was  shooting  ahead  of  the  horses,  down  the 
road;  then  to  one  side  and  the  other  of  it  im- 


Mostly  Wolves:   And  a  Girl     79 

partially,  covering  them.  Only  what  knocked 
me  was  that  there  was  no  sign  of  a  wolf 
either  before  or  beside  us  on  the  narrow, 
black-dark  highway, — and  that  she  was  shoot- 
ing into  the  jungle- thick  swamp  hemlocks 
on  each  side  of  it  at  the  breast  height  of  a 
man ! 

And  at  a  single  ghastly,  smothered  cry  I 
burst  out,  "  By  gad,  it  is  men! "  For  I  knew 
she  had  shot  one.  I  listened,  over  the  rattling 
roll  of  the  wheels  on  the  corduroy,  but  there 
was  no  second  cry.  There  was  only  what 
seemed  dead  silence  after  the  thunder  of  the 
wheels  on  the  uneven  logs,  as  we  swept  out  on 
the  level  road  that  led  straight  to  the  Halfway 
stable.  It  was  light,  too,  after  the  dead  black- 
ness of  the  narrow  swamp  road.  I  saw  the 
girl  turn  on  Danny  carelessly,  as  if  she  were  in 
a  saddle,  and  wave  her  hand  forward  for  me  to 
keep  going.  But  the  only  thought  I  had  was 
to  get  her  back  into  the  wagon.  Not  because 
I  was  afraid  of  a  smash,  for  if  the  mended  pole 
had  held  in  that  crazy,  tearing  gallop  from  the 
top  of  the  hill  it  would  hold  till  the  Halfway. 
I  just  wanted  her  safe  beside  me.  I  had  had 
enough  of  seeing  a  girl  do  stunts  that  stopped 
my  blood.  "  Come  back  out  of  that,"  I 
shouted  at  her ;  "  I'm  going  to  stop  the  horses 
— and  you  come  here! " 

She  motioned  forward,  crying  out  some- 


8o  The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery- 
thing  unintelligible.  But  before  I  could  pull 
up  the  horses,  before  I  even  guessed  what  she 
meant  to  do,  I  saw  her  stand  up  on  Danny's 
back,  spring  from  his  rump,  and, — land  lightly 
in  the  wagon ! 

It  may  be  true  that  I  damned  her  up  in 
heaps  from  sheer  fright;  I  know  I  asked 
fiercely  if  she  wanted  to  kill  herself.  She  said 
no,  quite  coolly.  Only  that  that  pole  would 
not  bear  any  more  running  on  it,  or  the  jerk  of 
a  sudden  stop  either:  it  was  that  she  had  called 
out  to  me. 

"  Neither  can  I  bear  any  more — of  tricks 
that  might  lose  your  life  to  save  me  and  my 
miserable  gold,"  I  said  angrily.  "  Sit  down 
this  minute  and  wrap  that  coat  round  you."  I 
had  ceased  to  care  that  it  was  Dudley's.  "  It's 
bitter  cold.  And  there's  the  light  at  the  Half- 
way!" 

"  What  I  did  wasn't  anything — for  me,"  my 
dream  girl  retorted  oddly.  "  And  I  don't 
know  that  it  was  altogether  to  save  you,  Mr. 
Stretton,  or  your  gold  either,  that  you  thought 
I  meant  to  steal.  I  was  pretty  afraid  for  my- 
self, with  those  wolves !  " 

I  was  too  raging  with  myself  to  answer.  Of 
course  it  had  not  been  she  who  had  meant  to 
steal  my  gold;  and  no  matter  how  she  had 
known  some  one  meant  to  get  at  me,  with 
wolves  or  anything  else.  It  had  been  just  Col- 


Mostly  Wolves:   And  a  Girl     81 

lins — and  the  sheer  gall  of  it  jammed  my  teeth 
— Collins  and  Dunn,  two  ne'er-do-well  brats  in 
our  own  mine.  I  had  realized  already  that  they 
had  been  missing  from  La  Chance  quite  early 
enough  for  me  to  thank  them  for  the  boulder  on 

my  good  road,  and  Collins But  I  hastily 

revised  my  conviction  that  it  was  Collins  I  had 
heard  the  wolves  chop  in  the  bush  as  hounds 
chop  a  fox:  Collins  had  too  much  sense.  It 
had  more  likely  been  Dunn;  he  was  the  kind 
to  get  eaten!  Collins  must  have  legged  it 
early  for  my  corduroy  road,  where  Paulette 
had  expected  him  enough  to  shoot  at  him;  while 
Dunn  stayed  round  La  Chance  to  put  the  wolf 
bait  in  my  wagon  and  got  caught  by  it  himself 
on  his  way  to  join  Collins. 

As  for  the  genesis  of  the  wolf  dope,  its  his- 
tory came  to  me  coherently  as  letters  spelling 
a  word,  beginning  with  the  bottle  of  mixed  filth 
I  had  spilt  on  myself  at  Skunk's  Misery.  The 
second  I  and  my  smelly  clothes  reached  shore 
the  night  I  returned  to  La  Chance,  a  wolf  had 
scented  me  and  howled ;  had  followed  me  to  the 
shack  and  howled  again  while  I  was  talking  to 
Marcia  about  Paulette  Brown;  and  another 
had  carried  off  those  very  clothes  under  my 
own  eyes  where  I  stood  by  my  window,  as  if 
the  smell  on  them  had  been  some  kind  of  bait  it 
could  not  resist.  Wherever  Dunn  and  Collins 
had  got  it,  the  smell  from  the  broken  bottle  had 


82     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

been  exactly  the  same,  only  twenty  times 
stronger:  and  it  had  been  meant  to  smash  at 
the  boulder  on  my  road  and  turn  me  into  a 
living  bait  for  wolves ! 

The  theory  may  sound  crazy,  but  it  happens 
to  be  sane.  There  is  a  wolf  dope,  made  of 
heaven  knows  what,  except  that  it  contains  cer- 
tain ingredients  that  have  to  be  put  in  bottles 
and  ripened  in  the  sun  for  a  month.  Two 
Frenchmen  were  jailed  this  last  June  in  Que- 
bec province  for  using  it  around  a  fish  and 
game  club,  and  endangering  people's  lives. 
That  same  wolf  bait  had  been  put  in  my 
wagon  by  somebody, — and  the  human  cry  out 
of  the  swamp  at  Paulette's  shot  suddenly  re- 
peated itself  in  my  ears.  I  was  biting  my  lip, 
or  I  would  have  grinned.  Paulette  had  hit  the 
man  who  was  to  have  put  me  out  of  business, 
if  the  wolves  failed  when  that  bottle  smashed 
and  the  boulder  crippled  my  wagon.  Collins, 
who,  laid  up  in  the  swamp,  was  to  have  reaped 
my  gold  and  me  if  I  got  through !  The  cheek 
of  him  made  me  blaze  again,  and  I  turned  on 
Paulette  abruptly. 

"  Look  here,  do  you  know  you  shot  a  man  in 
the  swamp? " 

"  I  hope  I  killed  him,"  returned  that  same 
girl  who  had  disliked  being  cruel  to  wolves, — 
and  instantly  saw  what  I  was  after.  ;<  That's 
nonsense,  though!  There  couldn't  have  been 


Mostly  Wolves:    And  a  Girl     83 

any  man  there,  Mr.  Stretton.  The  wolves 
would  have  eaten  him!  " 

"  Only  one  wolf  got  by  you,"  I  suggested 
drily. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  ;<  They'd  have 
shot  at  us — men,  I  mean!  " 

I  made  no  answer.  It  struck  me  forcibly 
that  Collins  certainly  would  have;  unless  he 
was  not  out  for  shooting,  but  merely  waiting  to 
remove  the  gold  from  my  wagon  as  soon  as  the 
wolves  had  disposed  of  my  horses  and  me. 
Even  then  I  did  not  see  why  he  had  held  his 
fire,  unless  he  had  no  gun.  But  the  whole 
thing  was  a  snarl  it  was  no  good  thinking  about 
till  the  girl  beside  me  owned  how  much  she 
knew  about  it.  I  wondered  sharply  if  it  had 
been  just  that  knowledge  she  was  trying  to 
give  Dudley  the  night  I  stopped  her.  The 
lights  at  the  Halfway  were  very  close  as  I 
turned  to  her. 

"  If  I've  helped  you  at  all,  why  can't  you  tell 
me  all  the  trouble,  instead  of  Dudley? "  I 
asked,  very  low. 

"  I  don't  know  anything,"  but  I  thought  she 
checked  a  sob,  "  that  I — can  tell.  I  just 
thought  there  might  be  trouble  to-night,  but  I 
imagined  it  would  happen  before  you  started. 
That  was  why  I  marked  that  gold.  Don't 
take  any,  ever,  out  of  the  safe,  if  it  hasn't  my 
seal  on  it." 


84     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

"  You  can't  prevent  Collins  from  changing 
the  boxes — forever,"  I  said  deliberately;  be- 
cause, unless  he  were  dead,  as  I  hoped,  she 
couldn't.  But  Paulette  stared  at  me,  open- 
lipped,  as  we  drove  into  the  Halfway  yard, 
and  Billy  Jones  ran  out  with  a  lantern. 

"  Collins?  "  she  repeated,  as  if  she  had  never 
heard  his  name,  much  less  met  him  secretly  in 
the  dark.  "  I  don't  know  anything  about  any 
Collins,  nor  any  one  I  could — put  a  name  to! 
I  tell  you  I  don't  know  who  was  in  the 
swamp ! " 

She  had  not  said  she  did  not  know  who  was 
responsible  for  the  bottle  in  my  wagon.  But 
if  I  am  Indian-dark  I  can  be  Indian-silent  too. 
I  said  nothing  about  that.  '  Well,  it  doesn't 
matter  who  did  anything,"  I  exclaimed  sud- 
denly, "  so  long  as  there's  trust  between  you 
and  me!"  Because  I  forgot  Dudley  and 
everything  but  my  dream  girl  who  had  fought 
for  me,  and  I  suddenly  wondered  if  she  had  not 
forgotten  Dudley,  too.  For  Bob  and  Danny 
stood  still,  played  out  and  sweating,  and  Paul- 
ette Brown  sat  staring  at  me  with  great  eyes, 
instead  of  moving. 

But  she  had  forgotten  nothing.  "  You're 
very  kind — to  me,  and  Dudley,"  she  said 
quietly,  and  slipped  out  of  the  wagon  before  I 
could  lift  her  down.  A  sudden  voice  kept  me 
from  jumping  after  her. 


Mostly  Wolves:   And  a  Girl     85 

"  By  golly,"  said  Billy  Jones,  sniffing  at  my 
fore  wheel.     "  Have  you  run  over  a  hundred 


skunks? " 


CHAPTER  VII 

I  FIND  LITTLE  ENOUGH  ON  THE  CORDUROY 
ROAD,  AND  LESS  AT  SKUNK'S  MISERY 

I  TOLD  Billy  Jones  as  much  as  I  thought  fit 
of  the  evening's  work, — which  included  no 
mention  of  wolf  dope,  or  shooting  on  the  cor- 
duroy road. 

If  he  listened  incredulously  to  my  tale  of  a 
wolf  pack  one  look  at  Bob  and  Danny  told  him 
it  was  true.  They  had  had  all  they  wanted, 
and  we  spent  an  hour  working  over  them.  The 
wagon  was  a  wreck;  why  the  spliced  pole  had 
hung  together  to  the  Halfway  I  don't  know, 
but  it  had;  and  I  let  the  smell  on  it  go  as  a 
skunk.  I  lifted  the  gold  into  the  locked  cup- 
board where  Billy  kept  his  stores.  It  had  to 
be  put  in  another  wagon  for  Caraquet,  any- 
how ;  and  besides,  I  was  not  going  on  to  Cara- 
quet in  the  morning.  The  gold  was  safe  with 
Billy,  and  there  were  other  places  that  needed 
visiting  first.  There  was  no  hope  of  getting  at 
the  ugly  business  that  had  brewed  up  at  La 
Chance  through  Paulette  Brown,  or  Collins 
either;  since  one  would  never  tell  how  much  or 


I  Find  Little  Enough  87 

how  little  she  knew,  and  the  other  would  lie,  if 
he  ever  reappeared.  But  the  wolf  bait  end  I 
could  get  at,  and  I  meant  to.  Which  was  the 
reason  I  sat  on  one  of  the  horses  I  had  sent 
over  to  the  Halfway — after  my  one  experience 
when  it  held  none — when  my  dream  girl  and 
Mrs.  Jones  came  out  of  Billy's  shack  in  the 
cold  of  a  November  dawn. 

"  I'm  riding  some  of  the  way  back  with 
you,"  I  observed  casually. 

Paulette  stopped  short.  She  was  lovelier 
than  I  had  ever  seen  her,  with  her  gold-bronze 
hair  shining  over  the  sable  collar  of  Dudley's 
coat.  I  fancied  her  eyes  shone,  too,  for  one 
second,  at  seeing  me.  But  there  I  was  wrong. 

"  I  thought  you'd  started  for  Caraquet,"  she 
exclaimed  hastily.  '  You  needn't  come  with 
us.  There  won't  be  any  wolves  in  the  day- 
time, and — you  know  there's  no  need  for  you 
to  come ! " 

There  was  not.  Even  if  her  voice  had  not 
so  significantly  conveyed  the  fact  that  there 
was  no  bottle  in  her  wagon  this  time,  Mrs. 
Billy  Jones — to  put  a  hard  fact  politely — was 
about  the  most  capable  lady  I  had  ever  met. 
She  was  big-boned,  hard-faced  and  profane; 
and  usually  left  Billy  to  look  after  the  house 
while  she  attended  to  a  line  of  traps,  or  hunted 
bears  for  their  skins.  No  wolves  would  worry 
the  intrepid  ancj,  thoroughly  armed  Mrs.  Jones. 


88     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

But  all  the  same  I  was  riding  some  of  the  way 
back  to  La  Chance. 

There  was  not  a  thing  to  be  seen  on  the  cor- 
duroy road  through  the  swamp,  or  on  the  hill 
we  had  come  down  at  the  dead  run ;  and  I  had 
not  expected  there  would  be.  But  on  the  top 
of  the  hill  I  bade  good-by  to  my  dream  girl, — 
who  was  not  mine,  and  was  going  back  to  Dud- 
ley. It  was  all  I  could  manage  to  do  it,  too. 
I  did  not  know  I  was  biting  my  lip  until  it 
hurt ;  then  I  stopped  watching  her  out  of  sight 
and  turned  back  on  the  business  that  had 
brought  me. 

You  could  ride  a  horse  down  the  hill  into  the 
swamp  if  you  knew  how;  and  I  did.  I  tied 
him  to  a  tree  and  went  over  each  side  of  the  cor- 
duroy road  on  my  feet.  It  was  silent  as  death 
there  in  the  cold  gray  morning,  with  the  frost- 
fog  clinging  in  the  somber  hemlocks,  and  the 
swamp  frozen  so  solid  that  my  moccasins  never 
left  a  mark.  No  one  else's  feet  had  left  a  mark 
there,  either,  and  I  would  have  given  up  the 
idea  that  a  man  had  been  cached  by  the  road 
the  night  before,  if  it  had  not  been  for  two 
things. 

One  was  a  dead  wolf,  with  a  gash  in  his 
throat  in  which  the  knife  had  been  left  till  he 
was  cold;  you  could  tell  by  the  blood  clots 
round  the  wound:  the  other  I  did  not  find  at 
once.  But  wolves  do  not  stab  themselves,  and 


I  Find  Little  Enough  89 

I  remembered  that  the  lone  wolf  cry  ahead  of 
us  on  that  road  had  been  a  dying  cry,  not  a 
hunting  one.  If  Collins  had  killed  the  beast 
he  had  waited  there  long  enough  to  let  an  hour 
pass  before  he  took  his  knife  out  of  its  throat: 
so  he  had  been  there  when  we  raced  by, — which 
was  all  I  wanted  to  know,  except  where  he  had 
gone  since.  As  for  the  other  thing  I  found,  it 
was  behind  the  hemlocks  when  I  quartered  the 
sides  of  the  road  in  the  silence  and  the  Irost- 
fog:  and  it  was  nothing  but  a  patch  of  shell  ice. 
But  the  flimsy,  crackling  stuff  was  crushed 
into  two  cup-like  marks,  as  plainly  telltale  as 
if  I  had  seen  a  man  fall  on  his  knees  in  them. 
And  by  them,  frozen  there,  were  a  dozen  drops 
of  blood. 

I  knew  angrily  that  if  it  were  Collins's  blood 
he  had  not  missed  it  particularly,  for  he  had 
moved  away  without  leaving  a  sign  of  a  trail. 
Where  to  I  had  no  means  of  knowing,  till  five 
minutes  later  I  found  another  spatter  of  blood 
on  my  corduroy  road, — and  as  I  looked  at  it 
my  own  blood  boiled.  There  was  not  only  no 
one  but  that  young  devil  Collins  who  could 
have  lain  in  wait  for  me;  but  he  had  had  the 
nerve  to  walk  away  on  my  own  road !  Where 
to,  beat  me ;  but  considering  what  I  knew  of  his 
easy  deviltry  it  was  probably  back  to  La 
Chance  and  a  girl  who  was  daring  to  fight 
him. 


90     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

If  I  were  worried  for  that  girl  I  could  not 
go  back  to  her.  I  had  to  get  my  gold  to  Cara- 
quet.  Besides,  I  had  a  feeling  it  might  be  use- 
ful to  do  a  little  still  hunting  round  Skunk's 
Misery.  If  Collins  had  had  that  bottle  of 
devil's  brew  at  La  Chance  he  had  got  it  from 
Skunk's  Misery:  probably  out  of  the  very  hut 
where  I  had  once  nursed  a  filthy  boy.  And  I 
had  a  feeling  that  the  first  thing  I  needed  to  do 
was^o  prove  it. 

As  I  rode  back  to  Billy  Jones's  I  would  have 
given  a  deal  for  any  kind  of  a  motor  car  that 
would  have  reduced  the  twenty-seven  miles  to 
Caraquet  into  nothing,  instead  of  an  all-day 
job, — which  it  proved  to  be. 

Not  that  I  met  a  soul  on  the  road.  I  didn't. 
But  it  took  my  wagon  four  hours  to  reach 
Caraquet  over  the  frozen  ruts  of  that  same 
road ;  and  another  hour  to  hand  over  Dudley's 
gold  to  Randall,  a  man  of  my  own  who  was  to 
carry  it  on  the  mail  coach  to  the  distant  rail- 
way. 

I  had  no  worry  about  the  gold,  once  Randall 
had  charge  of  it:  no  one  was  likely  to  trouble 
him  or  the  coach  on  the  open  post  road,  even 
if  they  had  guessed  what  he  convoyed.  I  was 
turning  away,  whistling  at  being  rid  of  the 
stuff,  when  he  called  me  back  to  hand  over  a 
bundle  of  letters  for  La  Chance.  There  were 
three  for  Marcia,  and  one — in  old  Thomp- 


I  Find  Little  Enough  91 

son's  back-number  copperplate — for  Dudley. 
There  were  no  letters  for  Paulette  Brown  or 
myself,  but  perhaps  neither  of  us  had  expected 
any.  I  know  I  hadn't.  I  gave  the  Wilbra- 
ham  family's  correspondence  the  careless 
glance  you  always  bestow  on  other  people's  let- 
ters and  shoved  it  into  my  inside  pocket. 
After  which  I  left  my  horses  and  wagon  safe 
in  Randall's  stable  and  started  to  walk  back  to 
Skunk's  Misery  and  the  Halfway  stables. 

It  seemed  a  fool  thing  to  do,  and  I  had  no 
particular  use  for  walking  all  that  way;  but 
there  was  no  other  means  of  accomplishing  the 
twenty  miles  through  the  bush  from  Caraquet 
to  Skunk's  Misery.  Aside  from  the  fact  that 
I  had  no  desire  to  advertise  my  arrival,  there 
was  no  wagon  road  to  Skunk's  Misery.  Its 
inhabitants  did  not  possess  wagons, — or  horses 
to  put  in  them. 

It  was  black  dark  when  I  reached  the  place, 
and  for  a  moment  I  stood  and  considered  it. 
I  had  never  really  visualized  it  before,  any 
more  than  vou  do  anv  place  that  vou  take  for 

v  v        JL  v. 

granted  as  outside  your  scheme  of  existence. 
I  was  not  so  sure  that  it  was,  now.  Anyhow, 
I  stood  in  the  gap  of  a  desolate  hill  and  looked 
into  the  hollow  before  me  that — added  to  the 
dirt  no  skunk  could  stand — had  earned  the 
place  its  name.  It  was  all  stones:  gravel 
stones,  little  stones,  stones  as  big  as  cabs  and  as 


92      The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

big  as  houses;  and,  hunched  up  among  them 
like  lean-tos,  hidden  away  among  the  rocks  and 
the  pine  trees  growing  up  from  among  the 
rocks  wherever  they  could  find  root-hold,  were 
the  houses  of  the  Skunk's  Misery  people. 
There  was  no  pretense  of  a  street  or  a  village: 
there  were  just  houses, — if  they  deserved  even 
that  name.  How  many  there  wrere  I  could  not 
tell.  I  had  never  had  the  curiosity  to  explore 
the  place.  But  if  it  sounds  as  though  a  nar- 
row, stone-choked  valley  were  no  citadel  for  a 
man  or  men  to  have  hidden  themselves,  or  for 
any  one  to  conduct  an  industry  like  making  a 
secret  scent  to  attract  wolves,  the  person  who 
said  so  would  be  mistaken.  There  was  never 
in  the  world  a  better  place  for  secret  dwelling 
and  villainy  and  all  the  rest  than  Skunk's 
Misery. 

In  the  first  place,  you  could  not  see  the 
houses  among  the  rocks.  The  valley  was  just 
like  a  porcupine  warren.  No  rock  stood  out 
alone:  they  were  all  jumbled  up  together,  big 
and  little,  with  pine  trees  growing  on  the  tops 
of  them  and  in  between  them,  up  from  the 
earth  that  was  twelve,  twenty,  or  sometimes 
forty  feet  below.  The  whole  hollow  was  a 
maze  of  narrow,  winding  tracks,  between  rocks 
and  under  them,  sometimes  a  foot  wide  and 
sometimes  six,  that  Skunk's  Misery  used  for 
roads.  What  its  citizens  lived  on,  I  had  never 


I  Find  Little  Enough  93 

been  able  to  guess.  Caraquet  said  it  was  on 
wolf  bounties, — which  was  another  thing  that 
had  set  me  thinking  about  the  bottle  I  had 
spilt  on  my  clothes.  If  Collins  or  Dunn  had 
got  a  similar  bottle  there  I  meant  to  find  out 
about  it:  and  I  had  the  more  heart  for  doing  it 
since  Paulette  Brown  knew  nothing  of  Skunk's 
Misery.  You  can  tell  when  a  girl  has  never 
heard  of  a  place,  and  I  knew  she  had  never 
heard  of  that  one.  I  settled  down  the  revolver 
I  had  filled  up  at  Billy  Jones's,  and  trod  softly 
down  the  nearest  of  the  winding  alleys,  over 
the  worn  pine  needles,  in  the  dark. 

There  were  just  twenty  houses,  when  I  had 
counted  all  I  could  find.  There  might  have 
been  twenty  more,  under  rocks  and  behind 
rocks  I  could  not  make  my  way  around ;  but  I 
was  no  porcupine,  and  in  the  dark  I  could  not 
stumble  on  them.  There  was  not  a  sign  of  a 
stranger  in  the  place,  or  a  soul  about.  And 
judging  from  the  darkness  and  the  quiet,  all 
the  fat-faced,  indifferent  women  were  in  bed 
and  asleep,  and  the  shiftless  rats  of  men  were 
still  away.  There  were  no  dogs  to  bark  at  me: 
I  had  learned  that  in  my  previous  sojourn 
there.  Dogs  required  food,  and  Skunk's  Mis- 
ery had  none  to  spare.  I  went  back  through 
the  one  winding  alley  that  was  familiar  to  me, 
found  the  hut  where  I  had  nursed  the  boy,  and 
walked  in. 


94     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

There  was  not  any  Collins  there,  anyhow. 
The  boy  and  his  mother  were  in  bed,  or  what 
went  for  being  in  bed.  But  at  the  sound  of 
my  voice  the  woman  fairly  flung  herself  at  me, 
saying  that  her  son  was  recovered  again,  and 
it  was  I  who  had  saved  him  for  her.  She  piled 
wood  on  the  fire  that  was  built  up  against  the 
face  of  the  rock  that  formed  two  sides  of  her 
house,  and  jabbered  gratitude  as  I  had  never 
thought  any  Skunk's  Misery  woman  could  jab- 
ber. And  she  did  not  look  like  one,  either; 
she  was  handsome,  in  a  haggard,  vicious  way, 
and  she  was  not  old.  I  did  not  think  myself 
that  her  son  looked  particularly  recovered. 
He  lay  like  a  log  on  his  spruce-bough  bed, 
awake  and  conscious  but  wholly  speechless, 
though  his  mother  seemed  satisfied.  But  I 
had  not  come  to  talk  about  any  sick  boys.  I 
asked  casually  where  I  could  find  the  stranger 
who  had  been  in  Skunk's  Misery  lately.  But 
the  woman  only  stared  at  me,  as  if  the  idea 
would  not  filter  into  her  head.  Presently  she 
said  dully  that  there  had  been  no  stranger 
there ;  I  was  the  only  one  she  had  ever  seen. 

It  was  likely  enough ;  a  Skunk's  Misery  mes- 
senger had  more  probably  taken  the  wolf  dope 
to  Collins.  I  asked  casually  if  she  had  any 
more  of  the  stuff  I  had  spilt  on  my  clothes,  and 
where  she  had  got  it, — and  once  more  I  ran 
bang  up  against  a  stone  wall.  The  woman  ex- 


I  Find  Little  Enough  95 

plained  matter-of-factly  that  she  had  not  got  it 
from  any  one.  She  had  found  it  standing  in 
the  sun  beside  one  of  the  rocks,  and  stolen  it, 
supposing  it  was  gin.  When  she  found  it  was 
not  she  took  it  for  some  sort  of  liniment; 
and  put  it  where  I  had  knocked  it  over  on  my- 
self. She  had  never  seen  nor  heard  of  any  more 
of  it.  But  of  course  it  might  have  belonged  to 
any  one  in  the  place,  only  I  could  understand 
she  could  not  ask  about  it :  which  I  did,  know- 
ing how  precious  a  whole  bottle  of  anything 
was  in  those  surroundings.  As  to  where  she 
had  found  it,  she  could  not  be  sure.  She 
thought  it  was  by  the  new  house  the  French- 
woman's son  had  built  that  autumn  and  never 
lived  in! 

I  pricked  up  my  ears.  The  Frenchwoman's 
son  was  one  of  the  men  arrested  in  Quebec 
province  for  using  wolf  dope:  a  handsome, 
elusive  devil  who  sometimes  haunted  the  lum- 
ber woods  at  the  lower  end  of  Lac  Tremblant, 
trapping  or  robbing  traps  as  seemed  good  to 
him,  and  paying  back  interruptions  with  such 
interest  that  no  one  was  keen  to  interfere  with 
him.  If  the  Frenchwoman's  son  were  in  with 
Collins  in  trying  to  hold  up  the  La  Chance 
gold,  and  was  at  Skunk's  Misery  now,  I  saw 
daylight, — anyhow  about  the  wolf  dope. 

But  the  woman  by  the  fire  knocked  that  idea 
out  of  me,  half-made.  The  Frenchwoman's 


96  The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery- 
son  had  not  been  there  for  two  months  past  and 
had  only  come  there  at  all  to  build  a  house.  It 
was  empty  now,  but  no  one  had  dared  to  go 
into  it.  She  could  show  it  to  me,  but  she  was 
sure  he  had  had  nothing  to  do  with  that  lini- 
ment, if  I  wanted  any  more.  After  which  she 
relapsed  into  indifference,  or  I  thought  so,  till 
I  showed  her  what  little  money  I  had  in  my 
pocket.  She  rose  then,  abruptly,  and  led  the 
way  out  of  her  hut  to  the  deserted  house  the 
Frenchwoman's  son  had  built  for  caprice  and 
never  lived  in. 

It  was  deserted  enough,  in  all  conscience. 
The  door  was  open,  and  the  November  wind 
free  to  play  through  the  place  as  it  liked.  I 
stood  on  the  threshold,  thinking.  I  had  found 
out  nothing  about  any  wolf -bait,  excepting  the 
one  bottle  the  Frenchwoman's  son  might  or 
might  not  have  left  there;  certainly  nothing 
about  Collins  ever  having  got  hold  of  any ;  and 
if  I  had  meant  to  spend  the  rest  of  the  night  in 
Skunk's  Misery  I  saw  no  particular  sense  in 
doing  it.  I  had  a  solid  conviction  that  the 
boy's  mother  would  not  mention  I  had  ever 
been  there,  for  fear  she  might  have  to  share 
what  little  I  had  given  her — which,  as  it  fell 
out,  was  true — and  turned  to  go. 

But  when  the  woman  had  left  me  to  creep 
home  in  the  dark,  while  I  made  my  own  way 
out  of  the  village,  I  altered  my  mind  about 


I  Find  Little  Enough  97 

going.  I  cut  down  enough  pine  boughs  to 
make  a  bed  under  me,  shut  the  door  of  the  de- 
serted house — that  I  knew  enough  of  the 
Frenchwoman's  son  to  know  would  have  no 
visitors — had  a  drink  from  my  flask,  and  slept 
the  sleep  of  the  hunting  dog  till  it  should  be 
daylight. 

And,  like  the  hunting  dog,  I  went  on  with  my 
business  in  my  dreams;  till  my  legs  jerked  and 
woke  me,  to  see  a  waning  moon  peering  in  from 
the  west,  through  the  hole  that  served  the  hut 
for  a  chimney,  and  I  rose  to  go  back  to  Billy 
Jones.  For  I  dreamed  there  was  a  gang  of 
men  in  a  cellar  under  the  very  hut  I  slept  in, 
with  a  business-like  row  of  wolf -bait  bottles  at 
their  feet,  where  they  sat  squabbling  over  a 
poker  game.  But  as  I  said,  it  was  the  waning 
morning  moon  that  woke  me,  and  the  hut  was 
silent  as  the  grave.  I  picked  up  the  pine- 
bough  bed  I  had  slept  on  and  carried  it  into  the 
bush  with  me  far  enough  to  throw  it  down 
where  it  would  tell  no  tales — I  did  not  know 
why  J  did  it,  but  I  was  to  be  glad — tightened 
up  my  belt,  and  took  a  short  cut  through  the 
thick  bush  to  Billy  Jones's  stables,  with  noth- 
ing to  show  for  my  day's  and  night's  work  but 
a  dead  wolf,  a  stained  bit  of  shell  ice,  and  a  few 
drops  of  blood  on  the  logs  of  my  corduroy 
road.  I  was  starving,  and  it  was  noonday, 
when  I  came  out  of  the  bush  and  tramped  into 


98     The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

the  Halfway,  much  as  I  had  done  that  first 
time  I  came  from  Skunk's  Misery  and  went 
home  to  La  Chance.  Only  to-day  Billy  Jones 
was  not  sitting  by  his  stove  reading  his  an- 
cient newspaper.  He  was  standing  in  the 
kitchen  with  two  teamsters  from  La  Chance, 
looking  down  at  a  dead  man. 

As  I  opened  the  door  and  stood  staring,  the 
teamsters  jumped  as  if  they  had  been  shot. 
But  Billy  only  turned  a  stolid  white  face  on 
me. 

"  My  God,  Mr.  Stretton,"  he  said,  stolidly 
too,  "  what  do  you  make  of  this?  " 

All  I  could  see  from  where  I  stood  was  a 
rigid  hand,  that  had  said  death  to  me  the  sec- 
ond I  opened  the  door.  I  gave  a  sort  of  spring 
forward.  What  I  thought  was  that  here  was 
the  man  who  had  left  the  blood  in  the  swamp 
when  Paillette's  bullet  hit  him,  and  that  I 
had  got  Collins.  I  had  nearly  burst  out 
that  he  had  what  he  deserved.  But  instead 
I  stopped,  paralyzed,  where  my  spring  had  left 
me. 

"  My  God,"  I  said  in  my  turn,  "  I  don't 
know!" 

For  the  man  who  lay  in  front  of  me,  stone 
dead  in  water-soaked  clothes  that  were  frozen 
to  his  stark  body,  was  Thompson,  our  old  su- 
perintendent, who  only  six  weeks  ago  had  left 
the  La  Chance  mine;  whose  letter  to  Dudlev, 


I  Find  Little  Enough  99 

with  its  careful,  back-number  copperplate  ad- 
dress, lay  in  my  pocket  now. 

"It's  Thompson  1"  was  the  only  thing  I 
could  say. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THOMPSON! 

THOMPSON  it  was,  if  it  seemed  incredible. 
And  Billy  Jones  exclaimed,  as  he  pointed  to 
him,  "  He  can't  have  been  dead  longer  than 
since  last  night !  And  I  can't  understand  this 
thing,  Mr.  Stretton!  It's  but  six  weeks  since 
Thompson  left  here ;  and  from  what  he  said  he 
didn't  mean  to  come  back.  He  told  me  he  was 
in  a  hurry  to  get  away,  because  he  was  taking 
a  position  in  a  copper  mine  in  the  West.  I  re- 
member I  warned  him  you  hadn't  got  all  your 
swamps  corduroyed,  and  likely  he  couldn't 
drive  clear  into  Caraquet ;  so  he  left  his  wagon 
here  and  borrowed  a  saddle  from  me  to  ride 
over.  And  a  boy  brought  his  horse  back  next 
day,  or  day  after, — I  forget  which.  I  remem- 
ber Thompson  forgot  to  send  me  a  tin  of  to- 
bacco he  promised  to  get  me  off  Randall,  at 
Caraquet ! " 

"  D'ye  mean  you  think  he  never  went  to 
Caraquet?  "  It  was  a  stupid  question,  for,  of 
course,  I  knew  he  had  gone  there,  and  farther, 
or  he  could  not  have  sent  Macartney  to  La 


Thompson!  101 

Chance,  or  a  letter  to  Dudley  now.  But  what 
I  was  really  thinking  of  was  that  I  had  been 
right  about  the  date  old  Thompson  left  the 
mine,  and  that  he  had  gone  over  my  road  on 
one  of  the  two  days  I  was  away  with  all  my 
road  men,  getting  logs  out  of  the  bush. 

Billy  Jones  scattered  my  thoughts  impa- 
tiently: "  Oh,  he  went  there  all  right.  It's  his 
— coming  back — that  beats  me !  " 

It  beat  me  too,  for  reasons  Billy  knew  noth- 
ing about.  Why  Thompson  had  come  back 
was  his  own  business ;  but  it  was  plain  he  had 
been  dead  a  scant  twenty-four  hours,  and  the 
only  place  I  could  think  of  where  he  was  likely 
to  have  been  killed  was  on  my  corduroy  road 
the  night  before.  Only  I  did  not  see  how 
Thompson's  clothes  could  have  got  water- 
soaked  in  a  frozen  swamp;  and  I  did  not  see, 
either,  what  a  decent  man  like  Thompson  could 
have  been  doing  out  there  like  a  wolf,  with 
wolves.  I  had  more  sense  than  to  think  he 
could  have  had  any  truck  with  Collins  about 
our  gold.  I  nodded  back  at  the  teamsters: 
"  Where  did  they  find  him?  " 

'  They  didn't  find  him,"  returned  Billy  sim- 
ply, "  it  was  my  hound  dog.  He  was  yelling 
down  at  the  lake  shore  this  morning,  like  he'd 
treed  a  wildcat,  and  when  I  went  down  it  was 
Thompson  he'd  found, — lying  right  on  shore 
in  the  daylight !  You  know  how  that  fool  Lac 


102    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

Tremblant  behaves;  the  water  in  it  had  gone 
down  to  nothing  this  morning,  and  on  the  bare 
stones  it  had  left  was  Thompson.  Only  I 
don't  see  how  he  ever  got  there  unless  he  was 
coming  back,  from  wherever  he'd  been  outside, 
by  Lac  Tremblant  instead  of  your  road! " 

'  Where  was  his  canoe?  " 

"  He  didn't  have  any !  But  you  know  that 
lake — it  might  have  smashed  his  canoe  on  him 
like  an  egg,  and  then — just  by  chance — put 
him  ashore ! "  I  did  know :  I  had  had  all  I 
wanted  to  keep  from  being  smashed  myself  the 
night  I  crossed  to  La  Chance.  I  nodded,  and 
Billy  choked.  "  It — it  kind  of  sickened  me 
this  morning;  I  liked  Thompson,  Mr.  S tret- 
ton!" 

So  had  I,  if  I  had  laughed  at  his  eternal  soli- 
taire. Billy  and  I  laid  him  on  the  bed,  de- 
cently, after  we  had  done  what  we  could  for 
him.  And  I  was  ashamed  to  have  even  won- 
dered if  he  had  been  the  man  Paulette  had  shot 
at  on  the  La  Chance  road;  for  there  was  not  a 
mark  on  him,  and  a  fool  could  have  told  he  had 
just  been  drowned  in  Lac  Tremblant.  There 
was  nothing  in  his  pockets  to  tell  how  he  had 
got  there:  only  a  single  two-dollar  bill  and  a 
damp  pack  of  cards  in  a  wet  leather  case. 
Thompson's  solitaire  cards!  Somehow  the 
things  gave  me  a  lump  in  my  throat ;  I  wished 
I  had  talked  more  to  Thompson  in  the  long 


TKompsbn  I  103 

evenings.  The  letter  in  my  pocket  from  him 
was  Dudley's,  and  I  did  not  mention  it  to 
Billy.  I  said  I  would  try  to  find  out  where 
the  dead  man  had  come  from,  and  anything 
else  I  could,  before  he  buried  him.  And  with 
that  I  left  old  Thompson  lying  on  Billy's  bed 
with  his  face  covered,  and  rode  home  to  La 
Chance. 

When  I  got  in,  Dudley  and  Macartney  were 
in  the  living  room,  talking.  Any  other  time  I 
might  have  wondered  why  Dudley  looked  so 
jumpy  and  bad-tempered,  but  all  I  was  think- 
ing of  then  was  my  ugly  news.  But  before  I 
could  tell  it,  Dudley  flew  at  me.  '  Where  the 
devil  have  you  been  all  day?  And  what's  hap- 
pened to  my  gold? " 

I  don't  know  why,  but  I  had  a  furious,  cold 
qualm  that  either  Dudley  or  Macartney  had 
•found  out, — I  don't  mean  about  Collins  so 
much  as  about  Paulette  having  been  mixed  up 
with  him.  Till  I  knew  I  was  damned  if  I'd 
mention  him. 

"  I  don't  understand,"  I  said  shortly.  "  The 
gold's  in  Caraquet.  But  the  reason  I  didn't 
get  home  this  morning  is  that  Thompson's 
back!" 

'  What? "  Macartney  never  spoke  loud,  yet 
it  cracked  out. 

I  nodded.  "  I  mean  he's  dead,  poor  chap ! 
They  found  his  body  in  Lac  Tremblant  this 


104    The  La  Chance  Mine' Mystery 

morning."  And  suddenly  I  knew  I  was  star- 
ing at  Macartney.  His  capable  face  was  al- 
ways pale,  but  in  one  second  it  had  gone 
ghastly.  It  came  over  me  that  he  had  known 
old  Thompson  all  his  life,  and  I  blurted  in- 
voluntarily, "  I'm  sorry,  Macartney!  " 

But  he  took  no  notice. 

'  They  found  Thompson's  body,"  he  said 
heavily,  as  a  man  does  when  he  is  sick  with 
shock.  "Who  found  it?  Why,— he  wasn't 
here!  What  in  hell  do  you  mean?  " 

I  told  him.  Dudley  sat  and  goggled  at  the 
two  of  us,  but  Macartney  stared  at  the  floor, 
his  face  still  ghastly.  "  I  beg  your  pardon, 
Stretton,"  he  muttered  as  if  he  were  dizzy. 
"  Only  Thompson  was  about  the  oldest  friend 
I  had.  I  thought "  But  he  checked  him- 
self and  exclaimed  with  a  sudden  sharp  doubt, 
"It  can't  be  old  Thompson,  Stretton;  you 
must  be  mistaken!  He  couldn't  be  here — he 
was  going  out  West.  I  was  expecting  a  letter 
from  him  any  day,  to  say  he'd  started." 

"  It's  here.  At  least,  I  mean  there's  a  letter 
from  him,  that  I  got  in  Caraquet,  only  it's  for 
Mr.  Wilbraham.  And  I  wasn't  mistaken, 
Macartney.  I  wish  I  were ! " 

Macartney  could  not  speak.  I  was  sur- 
prised; I  had  not  suspected  him  of  much  of  a 
heart.  I  pulled  out  the  letter,  and  Dudley 
opened  it. 


Thompson !  105 

"  Down  and  out — the  poor  old  devil,"  said 
he  slowly,  staring  at  it,  "  and  came  back.  Well, 
poor  Thompson!"  He  read  the  thing  again 
and  handed  it  to  Macartney.  But  Macartney 
only  gave  one  silent,  comprehensive  stare  at  it, 
in  the  set-eyed  way  that  was  the  only  thing  I 
had  never  liked  about  him,  and  pushed  the 
letter  across  the  table  to  me. 

It  was  dated  and  postmarked  Montreal. 
There  was  no  street  address,  which  was  not  like 
Thompson.  But  its  precise  phrases,  which 
were  like  him,  sounded  down  and  out  all  right. 

"  DEAR  MR.  WILBRAHAM:  I  write  to  inquire 
if  you  will  take  me  back  at  La  Chance.  There 
is  no  work  here,  or  anywhere,  and  the  British 
Columbia  copper  mine,  where  I  intended  to 
go,  has  shut  down.  I  have  nothing  else  in 
view,  and  I  am  stranded.  If  by  to-morrow  I 
cannot  obtain  work  here  I  see  nothing  between 
me  and  starvation  but  to  return  to  La  Chance. 
I  trust  you  can  see  your  way  to  taking  me 
back,  in  no  matter  how  subordinate  a  position, 
at  least  till  I  can  hear  of  something  else.  If  I 
am  obliged  to  chance  coming  to  you  I  will  take 
the  shortest  route,  avoiding  Caraquet,  and  com- 
ing by  Lac  Tremblant. 
'  Yours  truly, 

"  WILLIAM  D.  THOMPSON/' 

"  That's   funny,"   I  let  out  involuntarily. 


io6    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

And  Dudley  snapped  at  me  that  it  wasn't;  it 
was  ghastly. 

"  I  don't  mean  the  letter,"  I  said  absently. 
"  It's  that  about  Lac  Tremblant.  Thompson 
was  seared  blue  of  that  lake ;  he  used  to  beg  me 
not  to  go  out  on  it.  And  by  gad,  Dudley,  I 
don't  see  how  he  could  have  come  that  way! 
He  couldn't  paddle  a  canoe !  " 

'  What?  "  Macartney  started,  staring  at  me. 
'You're  right:  he  couldn't,"  he  said  slowly. 
'*  That  does  make  it  queer — except  that  we 
don't  know  he  meant  to  paddle  up  the  lake. 
He  might  have  intended  to  walk  here  along  its 
shore,  and  strayed  or  slipped  in  or  something, 
in  the  dark.  But  what  troubles  me  is — can't 
you  see  he'd  gone  crazy?  This  letter  " — he  put 
a  finger  on  it,  eloquently—  "  isn't  sane,  from  a 
self-contained  man  like  Thompson!  He  must 
have  been  off  his  head  with  worry  before  he 
wrote  it,  or  started  back  to  a  place  he'd  left 
for " 

"  Incompetency,  if  you  want  the  brutal 
truth,"  Dudley  broke  in  not  unkindly.  "  He 
was  too  old-fashioned  to  make  good  elsewhere, 
I  expect ;  and  if  he  found  it  out,  I  don't  wonder 
if  he  did  go  off  his  head." 

I  glanced  over  Dudley's  shoulder  at  the  let- 
ter he  and  Macartney  were  studying.  It  did 
not  look  crazy,  with  its  Gaskell's  Compendium 
copperplate  and  its  careful  signature.  I  don't 


Thompson !  107 

know  why  I  picked  up  the  envelope  from 
where  it  lay  unnoticed  on  the  table  by  Dudley 
and  fiddled  with  it  scrutinizingly,  but  I  did. 
The  outside  of  it  looked  all  right,  with  its 
address  in  Thompson's  neat  copperplate.  But 
it  wasn't  well  glued  or  something,  for  as  I 
shoved  my  fingers  inside,  the  whole  thing 
opened  out  flat,  like  a  lily.  I  looked  down 
mechanically  as  I  felt  it  go,  and — by  gad,  the 
inside  of  it  didn't  look  right !  There  was  noth- 
ing on  the  glued-down  top  flap,  but  the  inside 
back  of  the  envelope  wasn't  blank,  as  it  should 
have  been.  It  wasn't  written  on  in  Thomp- 
son's neat  copperplate  or  in  his  neat  phrases, 
either.  A  pencil  scrawl  stared  at  me,  upside 
down,  as  I  gripped  the  lower  flap  of  the  en- 
velope unconsciously,  under  the  ball  of  my  big 
thumb.  '  Why,  here's  some  more,"  I  ex- 
claimed like  an  ass,  glaring  at  the  envelope's 

inside  back.        '  Take  care — something ' 

What's  this?  What  on  earth  did  the  old  man 
mean? " 

Macartney  caught  the  splayed-out  envelope 
from  my  hand,  so  sharply  that  the  flap  I  didn't 
know  I  held  tore  away,  and  stayed  in  my  fist  as 
he  gazed  on  the  rest  of  the  reversed  envelope 
with  his  set-eyed  stare.  "  '  Take  care,  Macart- 
ney! Gold,  life,  everything — in  danger!'  '  he 
read  out  blankly.  "  Why,  it's  some  kind  of  a 
crazy  warning  to  me!  Only — nobody  wants 


io8    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

my  life,  and  I've  no  gold — if  that's  what  he 

means !  I "  but  he  broke  down  completely. 

"  Old  Thompson  must  have  gone  stark  mad," 
he  muttered.  "  I — it  makes  me  heartsick!  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  Dudley  snapped  unexpect- 
edly. "  It  fits  about  the  gold,  perhaps. 
Thompson  might  have  suspected  something 
before  he  left  here ! " 

He  looked  at  Macartney  significantly,  and  I 
remembered  the  question  he  had  rapped  at  me 
when  I  came  in.  Something  inside  me  told  me 
to  hold  my  tongue  concerning  my  adventures 
on  the  Caraquet  road  till  I  knew  what  Paul- 
ette  had  said  about  them, — which  I  was  pretty 
certain  was  mighty  little.  But  once  again  I 
had  that  cold  fear  that  Macartney  might  have 
found  out  something  about  the  seal  she  had 
put  on  all  our  gold,  or  her  talking  to  Collins 
in  the  dark,  for  the  question  Dudley  flung  at 
me  was  just  what  I  had  been  expecting: 

"  You  didn't  see  anything  of  Dunn  or  Col- 
lins between  here  and  Caraquet — or  hear  from 
Billy  Jones  that  they'd  gone  by  the  Half- 
way?" 

"  No,"  I  fenced  with  a  bland,  lying  truth. 
"  I  saw  two  of  our  teamsters  at  the  Half- 
way!" 

Dudley  shook  his  head.  "Not  tHem — I 
knew  about  them!  But  Dunn  and  Col- 
lins cleared  out  the  day  you  left,  and  I 


Thompson  1  109 

thought "  he  broke  off  irrelevantly. 

'  What  the  dickens  possessed  you  to  take 
Paulette  with  you  that  night?  She  might 
have  been  killed — I  heard  you'd  the  dog's  own 
trouble  on  the  road ! " 

That  something  inside  me  stiffened  up. 
Whatever  he'd  heard,  I  was  pretty  certain  was 
not  all ;  and  I  was  hanged  if  I  were  coming  out 
with  the  full  story  of  that  crazy  drive  till  I 
knew  whether  Paulette  came  into  it.  I  had 
no  desire  to  talk  before  Macartney  either,  in 
spite  of  what  he  might  have  found  out,  or 
guessed;  no  matter  what  Paulette  might  have 
been  mixed  up  in  I  was  not  going  to  have  a 
stern-faced,  set-eyed  Macartney  put  her 
through  a  catechism  about  it.  Or  Dudley 
either,  for  that  matter.  I  had  no  real  voucher 
for  the  terms  he  and  Paulette  were  on,  except 
Marcia's  word;  and  Dudley  was  no  man  to 
trust  not  to  turn  on  a  girl. 

'  We  shot  a  few  wolves,  if  that's  what  you 
mean,"  I  said  roughly.  "  I  don't  see  why  that 
should  have  worried  you  about  Miss  Paulette — 
or  what  it  has  to  do  with  Dunn  and  Collins !  " 
— which  was  a  plain  lie. 

"Few  wolves!  I  know  all  about  them!" 
Dudley  retorted  viciously.  "  Billy  Jones's 
wife  came  out  with  the  plain  truth — that  you'd 
been  chased  by  a  pack  1  And  as  for  what  Dunn 
and  Collins  had  to  do  with  my  worrying  about 


no    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

the  gold  you  carried,  it's  simple  enough. 
They "  but  he  stopped,  chewing  two  fin- 
gers with  a  disgusting  trick  he  had.  "  By  gad," 
he  looked  up  suddenly,  "  I  believe  it  was  them 
the  wolves  were  after  to  begin  with,  Stretton— 
before  they  got  started  on  you !  And  it  wasn't 
what  they  left  La  Chance  for! " 

"  What  d'ye  mean?  " 

Dudley  was  chewing  his  fingers  again,  but 
Macartney  answered  with  his  usual  set-eyed 
openness.  :<  The  gold,"  he  supplied.  "  I  got 
an  idea  those  two  deserters  might  have  laid  up 
beside  the  Caraquet  road  somewhere,  to  wait 
for  you  and  get  it.  I  had  trouble  with  them 
over  some  drilling  the  morning  you  left;  and 
when  I  went  back  to  the  stope  after  seeing  you 
and  Miss  Paulette  off,  they'd  cleared  out. 
They  must  have  gone  a  couple  of  hours  before 
you  did.  They  let  out  something  about  hold- 
ups while  I  was  having  the  trouble  with  them, 
and  Wilbraham  and  I  got  worried  they  might 
have  managed  to  get  over  the  road  before  you, 
and  be  lying  up  for  you  somewhere." 

"  They  only  left — two  hours  before  I  did," 
said  I,  with  flat  irrelevance.  I  must  have 
stared  at  Macartney  like  a  fool,  but  he  had 
knocked  the  wind  clean  out  of  me  as  to  Collins 
having  been  the  man  in  the  swamp.  With 
only  two  hours'  start  neither  he  nor  Dunn,  nor 
any  man,  for  matter  of  that,  could  have  legged 


Thompson !  1 1 1 

it  over  my  road  in  time  to  lie  up  in  the  only 
place  I  knew  some  one  had  laid  up, — on  the 
corduroy  road. 

"  Well,  they  didn't  get  me,  and  I  never  saw 
them,"  I  began, — and  suddenly  remembered 
that  ghastly  nol~e,  like  the  last  flurry  of  a  dog 
fight,  that  had  halted  the  wolves  on  my  track. 
My  first  thought  of  it,  and  of  Dunn  and  Col- 
lins, had  been  right.  "  By  gad,  I  believe  I 
heard  them  though,"  I  exclaimed,  "  and  if  they 
were  on  that  road  they're  killed  and  eaten! 
But  I  didn't  have  any  trouble  about  the 
gold." 

It  was  true  to  the  letter,  for  my  side  had 
attended  to  all  the  trouble,  if  my  side  was  only 
a  girl  who  would  not  have  shot  without  need. 
But  when  I  explained  the  noise  that  might  have 
accounted  for  Dunn  and  Collins,  Dudley  shook 
his  head. 

'  They  didn't  get  eaten;  not  they!  And 
your  having  no  trouble  with  the  gold  isn't  say- 
ing you  won't  have  any.  If  no  one  saw  Dunn 
and  Collins  going  out  to  Caraquet  I  bet  they're 
laid  up  somewhere  on  your  rord  yet,  waiting 
for  your  next  trip!  And  as  if  that  wasn't 
worry  enough,  poor  old  Thompson  has  to  go 
out  of  his  mind  and  come  back  here  to  be  found 
dead — and  I  mean  to  find  out  how !  "  He  was 
working  himself  up  into  one  of  his  senseless 
rages,  and  he  turned  on  Macartney  furiously. 


112    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

'  You  knew  him  before  I  did !  Write  to  his 
people  and  find  out  how  he  got  here,  anyhow. 
I'm  not  going  to  have  any  man  come  back, 
and  just  be  found  dead  like  a  dog,  if  it  is  only 
old  Thompson !  I'm  going  to  have  him  traced 
from  the  time  he  left  Montreal." 

"  He  had  no  people,"  said  Macartney 
blankly.  "As  far  as  I  know,  he  was  just  a 
bit  of  driftwood.  And  as  for  finding  out  any- 
thing about  his  journey  here,  I  don't  suppose 
we  ever  can !  All  we'll  get  at  was  that  he  came 
back — and  was  found  dead."  And  something 
made  me  look  past  him  and  Dudley,  sitting 
with  their  backs  to  the  living-room  door,  and 
the  blood  jumped  into  my  face. 

Paulette  Brown  stood  in  the  doorway,  mo- 
tionless, as  if  she  had  been  there  some  time. 
I  didn't  know  if  she  were  merely  knocked  flat 
about  the  wolves  and  Collins,  or  scared 
Macartney  might  have  found  out  something 
about  her.  But  she  was  staring  at  Macartney's 
unconscious  back  as  you  look  at  a  chair  or 
anything,  without  seeing  it,  and  if  he  were 
pale  she  was  dead  white, — except  her  mouth 
that  was  arched  to  a  piteous  crimson  bow,  and 
her  eyes  that  looked  dark  as  pools  of  blue  ink. 
But  she  did  not  speak  of  Dunn  or  Collins. 

"  Do  you  mean  Thompson's  been  found 
dead? — the  quiet  man  who  was  here  when  I 
came?  "  she  stammered,  as  if  it  choked  her. 


Thompson!  113 

And  I  had  an  ungodly  fright  she  was  going  to 
say  she  must  have  shot  him  on  the  corduroy 
road! 

"  Billy  Jones  found  him  drowned  in  Lac 
Tremblant;  it  was  an  accident,"  I  exclaimed 
sharply,  before  she  could  come  out  with  more 
about  shooting  and  wolf  bait,  and  perhaps  her- 
self, than  I  chose  any  one  to  know, — till  I 
knew  it  first.  And  I  saw  the  blood  flash  into 
her  face  as  it  had  flashed  into  mine  at  the  sight 
of  her. 

"  Oh,  I  thought  Mr.  Macartney  meant  he'd 
been — murdered,"  she  returned  faintly.  "  I'm 
glad — he  wasn't.  But  if  he  had  be,en,  I  sup- 
pose it  would  be  sure  to  come  out! " 

"  Crime  doesn't  always  come  out,  Miss  Paul- 
ette,"  said  Macartney. 

But  Paulette  only  answered  listlessly  that 
she  was  not  sure,  one  never  could  tell;  and 
moved  to  her  usual  seat  by  the  fire. 

I  was  knocked  endways  about  Collins;  for 
who  could  have  been  on  the  corduroy  road  if  he 
had  not.  I  would  have  given  most  of  the 
world  for  ten  minutes  alone  with  my  dream 
girl  and  explanations.  But  Dudley  began  the 
whole  story  of  Thompson  over  again,  and 
Macartney  stood  there,  and  Marcia — whom  I 
had  not  seen  since  she  went  to  bed  with  a 
swollen  face — came  in,  dressed  in  her  hideous 
green  tweed,  and  stood  on  tiptoe  to  chuck  me 


114    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

under  the  chin,  with  a  "  Hullo,  ]\Ticky,  you're 
back  again ! " 

There  was  no  earthly  hope  of  speaking  to 
my  dream  girl  alone.  I  shoved  the  mystery 
of  Collins  into  the  back  of  my  head  and  went 
off  to  my  room  before  I  remembered  I  was 
still  unconsciously  holding  that  torn-off  flap 
of  poor  old  Thompson's  envelope  in  my  shut 
fist.  I  dropped  it  on  my  floor, — and  grabbed 
it  up  again,  to  stare  at  it  for  a  full  minute. 
Because  there  was  writing  on  it,  too. 

"  For  God's  sake,  search  my  cards — my 
cards — my  cards,"  Thompson  had  scrawled 
across  the  three-cornered  envelope  flap  Ma- 
cartney's grab  had  left  in  my  hand:  and,  know- 
ing Thompson,  it  was  pitiful.  He  was  the 
sort  who  must  have  been  crazy  indeed  before 
he  spoke  of  the  Almighty  and  cards  in  the  same 
breath. 

I  remembered  taking  his  measly  solitaire 
pack  out  of  his  pocket  at  the  Halfway,  and 
wished  I  had  brought  them  along  with  me. 
But  it  was  simple  enough  to  go  and  get  them 
from  Billy  Jones.  Meantime  I  had  no  desire 
to  speak  to  Macartney  of  them  or  the  scrawled, 
torn-off  flap  from  Thompson's  envelope:  he 
was  sick  enough  already  about  old  Thompson's 
aberration,  without  any  more  proofs  of  it.  It 
hurt  even  me  to  remember  I  had  always 
laughed  at  the  poor  devil  and  his  forlorn  cards. 


Thompson!  115 

I  had  no  heart  to  burn  the  scrap  of  his  envelope 
either,  while  old  Thompson  lay  unburied.  I 
put  it  away  in  my  letter  case,  and  locked  it  up. 
Which  seemed  a  tame  ending;  I  had  not 
sense  enough  to  know  it  was  not  tame  at  all ! 


TATIANA  PAULINA  VALENKA! 

POOR  old  Thompson  seemed  a  closed  inci- 
dent. There  was  nothing  to  be  found  out 
about  him,  even  regarding  his  departure  from 
La  Chance.  Nobody  remembered  his  going 
through  Caraquet,  or  even  the  last  time  he  had 
been  there.  He  was  not  a  man  any  one  would 
remember,  anyhow,  or  one  who  had  made 
friends.  We  put  a  notice  of  his  death  and  the 
circumstances  in  a  Montreal  paper,  and  I 
thought  that  was  the  end  of  it  all,  till  Dudley, 
to  my  surprise,  stuck  obstinately  to  his  idea  of 
tracing  Thompson  from  Montreal.  He  told 
Macartney  and  me  that  he  had  written  to  a 
detective  about  it,  and  I  think  we  both  thought 
it  was  silly.  I  know  I  did ;  and  I  saw  Macart- 
ney close  his  lips  as  though  he  kept  back  the 
same  thought.  But  we  gave  old  Thompson 
the  best  funeral  we  could,  over  at  the  Halfway, 
with  a  good  grave  and  a  wooden  cross.  All  of 
us  went  except  Marcia.  She  said  she  had 
never  cared  about  the  poor  old  thing,  and  she 
wasn't  going  to  pretend  it. 


Tatiana  Paulina  Valenka!      117 

It  was  a  bitter  day,  with  no  snow  come 
yet.  Macartney  looked  sick  and  drawn  about 
the  mouth  as  he  stood  by  the  grave,  while 
Dudley  read  the  prayers  out  of  Paillette's 
prayer  book.  I  saw  her  notice  Macartney 
when  I  did,  and  I  think  neither  of  us  had 
guessed  he  had  so  much  feeling.  I  stayed  a 
minute  or  two  behind  the  others,  because  I'd 
ridden  over,  instead  of  driving  with  them ;  and 
just  before  I  started  for  La  Chance  I  remem- 
bered that  torn  scrap  of  paper  in  my  room 
there.  I  turned  hastily  to  Billy  Jones. 

"  Those  solitaire  cards  of  Thompson's,"  said 
I,  from  no  reason  on  earth  but  that  to  find 
them  had  been  the  last  request  of  the  dead  man, 
even  if  it  did  sound  crazy.  "  I'd  like  them !  " 

Billy  nodded  and  went  into  his  shack. 
Presently  he  came  out  and  said  the  cards  were 
gone.  He  thought  he'd  put  them  away  some- 
where, but  they  weren't  to  be  found.  It  was 
queer,  too,  because  he  remembered  replacing 
them  in  their  prayer-book  sort  of  case  after 
he'd  spread  them  by  the  stove  to  dry  with 
Thompson's  clothes.  But  his  wife  said  she 
would  find  them  and  send  them  over.  Which 
she  never  did,  and  I  forgot  them.  Goodness 
knows  I  had  reason  to. 

I  did  an  errand  instead  of  going  straight 
home  from  Thompson's  funeral  that  took  me 
into  the  bush  not  far  from  where  the  boulder 


u8    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

had  been  placed  on  my  road.  It  was  there  or 
near  by  I  had  heard  wolves  pull  down  a  man  or 
men;  and  after  I'd  tied  my  horse  and  done  a 
little  looking  around,  I  found  the  spot.  It 
was  not  the  scattered  bones  of  two  men  that 
sickened  me,  or  even  that  the  long  thighs 
and  shanks  of  one  of  them  were  the  measure 
of  Collins.  It  was  the  top  of  a  skull,  with  the 
hair  still  on  it.  I  did  not  need  the  face  that  was 
missing.  Dunn,  with  his  eternal  chuckle,  had 
had  stubbly  fair  hair  without  a  part  in  it, 
clipped  close  till  it  stood  on  end, — and  the 
same  fair  hair  was  on  the  top  of  the  skull  that 
lay  like  a  round  stone  in  the  frozen  bush. 
Whether  the  two  had  set  out  to  rob  me  I  didn't 
know.  I  did  know  they  had  not  done  it,  and 
that  the  man  Paulette  had  shot  at  in  the  swamp 
was  more  of  a  mystery  than  ever. 

The  ground  was  too  hard  to  do  any  burying. 
I  made  the  bones  into  a  decent  heap  and  piled 
rocks  into  a  cairn  over  them.  If  I  said  a  kind 
of  a  prayer,  too,  it  was  no  one's  business  but 
that  of  the  God  who  heard  me;  the  boys  had 
been  young,  and  they  were  dead  while  I  lived, 
which  was  enough  to  make  a  man  pray.  I 
felt  better  when  I  had  done  it. 

But  when  I  got  home  to  La  Chance  the  bald 
story  I  told  Dudley  was  wasted.  He  swore  I 
was  a  fool,  first,  for  burying  two  skulls  with 
no  faces  and  imagining  they  belonged  to  Dunn 


Tatiana  Paulina  Valenka       119 

and  Collins ;  and  next  that  they  were  still  alive 
and  meaning  to  run  a  hold-up  on  us.  From 
where,  or  how,  he  couldn't  say.  But  he  kept 
on  at  the  thing;  and  the  minute  he  had  half  a 
drink  in  him — which  was  usually  the  first  thing 
in  the  morning — he  began  to  worry  me  to  go 
out  and  find  where  they  were  cached  and  hike 
them  out  of  it ;  and  he  kept  at  it  all  day.  That 
would  not  have  worried  me  much  since  it  was 
only  Dudley,  and  Macartney  and  the  others 
believed  my  story;  but  everything  else  at  La 
Chance  began  to  go  crooked,  and  every  one's 
nerves  got  edgy.  Marcia  was  unpleasantly 
silent,  except  when  Macartney  was  there,  when 
she  sat  in  his  pocket  and  they  talked  low  like 
lovers, — only  that  I  was  always  idiotically 
nervous  they  might  be  talking  about  Paulette 
Brown.  That  was  seldom  enough  though,  for 
half  the  time  Macartney  never  showed  up, 
even  for  meals.  He  was  working  like  ten  men 
over  the  mine,  and  good,  solid,  capable  work 
at  that.  Whatever  had  made  poor  Thompson 
send  him  to  us  he  was  worth  his  weight  in  the 

gold  he  was  getting  out  of  La  Chance  in 

Well,  in  chunks!  Which  was  one  of  the  rea- 
sons he  had  to  work  so  hard,  and  brings  me 
to  the  naked  trouble  at  La  Chance. 

We  were  deadly  short  of  men.  Not  only 
were  Dunn  and  Collins  dead,  but  their  grisly 
end  seemed  to  have  scared  the  others.  Not  a 


120    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

day  went  by  that  three  or  four  of  them  did  not 
come  for  their  time,  chiefly  rockmen  and  team- 
sters,— for  we  had  no  ore  chute  at  La  Chance. 
Macartney  thought  it  was  Dudley's  fault,  for 
nagging  around  all  the  time,  and  was  sore  over 
it.  Dudley  said  it  was  Macartney's,  though 
when  I  pressed  him  he  said,  too,  that  he  did  not 
know  why.  The  men  I  spoke  to  before  they 
left  just  said  they'd  had  enough  of  La  Chance, 
but  I  could  feel  a  sulky  underhand  rebellion  in 
the  bunk  house.  I  ran  the  ore  hauling  as  best 
I  could,  and  Macartney  doubled  up  the  work 
in  the  mill.  The  ore-feeder  acted  as  crusher- 
man,  too,  the  engineer  was  his  own  fireman, 
which,  with  the  battery  man  and  the  amalga- 
mator, brought  the  mill  staff  down  to  four,— 
but  they  were  the  best  of  our  men.  The  others 
Macartney  turned  to  with  the  rockmen,  and 
in  the  course  of  a  fortnight  he  got  a  few  more 
men  from  somewhere  he  wrote  to  outside. 
They  were  a  rough  lot;  not  troublesome,  but 
the  kind  of  rough  that  saves  itself  backache  and 
elbow  grease.  Personally,  I  think  they  would 
not  have  worked  at  all,  if  Macartney  had  not 
put  the  fear  of  death  in  them.  I  caught  him 
at  it,  and  though  I  did  not  hear  what  he  said 
in  that  competent  low  voice  of  his,  there  was 
no  more  lounging  around  and  grinning  from 
our  new  men.  But  the  trouble  among  the 
old  men  kept  on  till  we  had  none  of  them  left 


Tatiana  Paulina  Valenka!     121 

except  the  four  in  the  mill.  It  did  not  con- 
cern me  particularly,  except  that  I  had  to  work 
on  odd  jobs  that  should  not  have  concerned 
me  either,  and  I  did  not  think  much  about  it. 
What  I  really  did  think  about — and  it  put 
me  out  of  gear  more  than  anything  else  at  La 
Chance — was  Paulette  Brown! 

It  had  been  all  very  well  to  call  her  my  dream 
girl  and  to  think  I'd  got  to  heaven  because 
she'd  taken  the  trouble  to  drive  to  the  Half- 
way with  me  and  fight  wolves.  But  she  had 
hardly  spoken  to  me  since.  And — well,  not 
only  the  bones  and  skull  I'd  buried  had 
smashed  up  my  theory  that  it  was  only  Collins 
who'd  meant  to  hold  up  my  gold,  but  I'd 
smashed  it  up,  for  myself,  for  a  reason  that 
made  me  wild:  Paulette  Brown,  whose  real 
name  Marcia  swore  was  something  else,  was 
still  meeting  a  man  in  the  dark!  Where,  I 
couldn't  tell,  but  I  knew  she  did  meet  him; 
and  naturally  I  knew  the  man  was  not  Collins, 
or  ever  had  been.  I  did  my  best  to  get  a  talk 
with  her,  but  she  ran  from  me  like  a  rabbit.  I 
was  worried  good  and  hard.  For  from  what 
I'd  picked  up,  I  knew  the  man  she  met  could 
be  nobody  at  La  Chance, — and  any  outsider 
who  followed  a  girl  there  likely  had  a  gang 
with  him  and  meant  business,  not  child's  play 
like  Collins. 

The  thing  was  serious,  and  I  had  no  right 


122    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

to  be  trusting  my  dream  girl  and  keeping  si- 
lence to  Dudley,  but  I  went  on  doing  it.  There 
is  no  sense  in  keeping  things  back.  I  was  mad 
with  love  for  her,  and  if  she  had  given  me  a 
chance  I  would  have  brushed  Dudley  out  of  my 
way  like  a  straw.  I  had  to  grip  all  the  decency 
I  had  not  to  do  it,  anyway.  But  if  you  think  I 
just  made  an  easy  resignation  of  her  and  sat 
back  meekly,  you're  wrong.  I  sat  back  be- 
cause I  was  helpless  and  too  stupid  to  formu- 
late any  way  to  deal  with  the  situation.  I 
don't  know  that  I  was  any  more  silent  than  I 
always  am,  though  Marcia  said  so.  I  did  get 
into  the  way  of  pretending  to  write  letters  in 
the  evenings,  while  Marcia  and  Macartney 
talked  low,  and  Dudley  went  up  and  down  the 
room  in  his  eternal  trudge  of  nervousness, 
throwing  a  word  now  and  then  to  Paulette 
seated  sewing  by  the  fire, — that  I  kept  my 
back  to  so  that  the  others  could  not  see  my 
face. 

But  one  night,  nearly  a  month  after  Thomp- 
son was  buried,  I  came  in  after  supper,  and 
Paulette  was  in  my  usual  place.  She  was 
writing  a  letter  or  something,  and  Dudley  was 
preaching  to  Macartney  about  the  shortage  of 
men  in  the  bunk  house.  Marcia,  cross  as  two 
sticks  because  she  was  only  there  to  talk  to 
Macartney  herself,  had  Paillette's  seat  by  the 
fire.  I  sat  down  by  the  table  where  Paulette 


Tatiana  Paulina  Valenkal      123 

was  writing,  more  sideways  than  behind 
her. 

If  I  had  chosen  to  look  I  could  have  read 
every  word  she  was  writing.  But  naturally  I 
was  not  choosing  to,  for  one  thing,  and  for 
another  my  eyes  were  glued  to  her  face.  Some- 
thing in  the  look  of  her  gave  me  a  sick  shock. 
She  was  deadly  pale,  and  under  the  light  of 
Charliet's  half-trimmed  lamp  I  saw  the  blue 
marks  under  her  eyes,  and  the  tight  look  round 
the  nostrils  that  only  come  to  a  woman's  face 
when  she  is  fighting  something  that  is  pretty 
nearly  past  her,  and  is  next  door  to  despair. 
She  looked  hunted;  that  was  the  only  word 
there  was  for  it.  It  struck  me  that  look  must 
stop.  If  I  had  to  march  her  out  into  the  bush 
with  me  by  force  next  morning,  I  meant  to  get 
a  solitary  talk  with  her;  find  out  what  her 
mysterious  business  was  at  La  Chance  with  a 
man  who  had  laid  up  for  our  gold;  and,  with 
any  luck,  transfer  the  hunted  look  to  the  face 
of  the  man  who  was  hounding  her, — for  I  felt 
certain  he  was  still  hanging  around  La  Chance. 

After  that — but  there  could  be  no  after  that 
to  matter  to  me,  with  a  dream  girl  who  scooted 
to  Dudley  every  time  I  tried  to  speak  to  her! 
I  took  a  half-glance  at  him,  and  it  was  plain 
enough  he  would  be  no  good  to  her  in  the 
kind  of  trouble  that  was  on  now.  If  I  couldn't 
have  her — since  she  didn't  want  me — I  was  the 


124    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

only  person  who  could  help  her.  She  was 
angel-sweet  to  Dudley,  heaven  knows,  and  he 
was  charming  to  her  when  he  was  himself. 
When  he  was  not,  he  had  a  patronizing,  half- 
threatening  way  of  speaking  to  her,  as  if  he 
knew  something  ugly  about  her,  as  Marcia  had 
insinuated,  that  made  me  boil.  She  never  re- 
sented it  either,  and  that  made  me  boil  too.  If 
I  had  ever  seen  her  even  shrink  from  him,  I 
don't  know  that  the  curb  bit  I  had  on  myself 
would  have  held.  I  wished  to  heaven  she 
would  shrink  and  give  me  a  chance  to  step  in 
between  her  and  a  man  who  might  love  her,  as 
Marcia  said,  but  who  loved  drink  and  drugs 
better,  or  he  would  not  have  been  talking  be- 
tween silliness  and  sobriety,  as  he  was  that 
night.  And  I  was  so  busy  wishing  it  that 
Marcia  spoke  to  me  three  times  before  I  heard 
her. 

"  Nicky,  do  make  Dudley  shut  up,"  she 
repeated,  "  he  won't  let  any  one  else  speak ! 
He's  been  preaching  the  whole  evening  that 
Collins  and  Dunn  aren't  dead,  only  laid  up 
somewhere  round  and  making  the  other  men 
desert,  and  you  ought  to  go  and  find  them — 
and  now  he's  worrying  us  about  that  old  idiot 
Thompson,  who  got  himself  drowned!  For 
heaven's  sake  tell  him  no  one  would  have 
bothered  to  murder  the  old  wretch!  " 

"  Nobody  ever  thought  he  was  murdered, 


Tatiana  Paulina  Valenka!      125 

and  I  buried  Dunn  and  Collins  right  enough," 
said  I  absently,  with  my  thoughts  still  on 
Paulette.  But  Dudley  whisked  around  on 
me. 

"  Marcia's  talking  rot,"  he  exclaimed,  his 
little  pig's  eyes  soberer  than  I  expected.  "  I 
don't  mean  about  those  two  boys,  for  I  bet 
they're  no  more  dead  than  I  am,  and  it  would 
be  just  like  them  to  lie  low  and  set  up  a 
smothered  strike  among  the  men  as  soon  as 
you  were  ass  enough  to  be  taken  in  by  some 
stray  bones !  But  I  do  mean  it  about  Thomp- 
son. There's  no  sense  in  saying  there  was 
nothing  queer  about  the  way  he  came  back  and 
was  found  dead — because  there  was!  It  was 
natural  enough  that  the  police  couldn't  trace 
him  in  Montreal,  for  I  hadn't  a  sign  of  data  to 
give  them:  but  it's  darned  unnatural  that  I 
can't  trace  him  in  Caraquet.  I've  sieved  the 
whole  place  upside  down,  and  nobody  ever  saw 
Thompson  after  he  left  Billy  Jones's  that 
morning  on  his  way  to  Caraquet !  " 

Macartney  stared  at  him  for  a  minute;  then 
he  put  down  the  pipe  he  was  smoking.  "  If  I 
thought  that,  I'd  sieve  the  whole  place  upside 
down,  too,"  he  said  so  quietly  that  I  remem- 
bered Thompson  had  been  his  best  friend,  and 
that  he  had  looked  deadly  sick  beside  his  grave. 
"  But  I  don't.  What  it  comes  to  with  me  is 
that  no  one  remembers  seeing  Thompson  in 


126    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

Caraquet  that  particular  time,  but  no  one  says 
he  wasn't  there !  " 

"Then  where's  the "  But  Dudley 

checked  himself  quick  as  light.  If  I  had  been 
quite  sure  he  was  himself  I  should  have  been 
curious  about  what  he  had  meant  to  say.  But 
all  he  substituted  was:  "  Well,  nobody  remem- 
bers seeing  him  that  day,  anyway,  except  Billy 
Jones!" 

"  Seems  to  me  that  narrows  poor  Thomp- 
son's potential  murderers  down  to  Billy 
Jones,"  said  Macartney  ironically,  since  Billy 
Jones  would  not  have  murdered  the  meanest 
yellow  pup  that  ever  walked,  and  Macartney 
knew  it  as  well  as  I  did.  But  Dudley  made 
the  two  of  us  sit  up. 

"  Who's  to  say  he  didn't? "  he  demanded. 
"  What  darned  thing  do  we  know  about  him  to 
say  that  he  mightn't  have  waylaid  poor  old 
Thompson  for  what  money  he  had  on  him, 
and  kept  him  shut  up  till  he  had  a  chance  to 
say  he  found  him  drowned?  " 

Macartney  and  I  stared  at  each  other.  The 
very  thought  was  so  monstrous  that  it  must 
have  struck  him,  as  it  did  me,  that  it  was  born 
of  Dudley's  drugs  and  not  his  intelligence. 
But  it  had  to  be  stopped,  or  heaven  knew  whom 
Dudley  would  be  accusing  next. 

"  For  God's  sake,  Wilbraham,  shut  up," 
said  Macartney  curtly.  "  You  make  me  sick. 


Tatiana  Paulina  Valenka!     127 

Isn't  it  enough  to  have  the  old  man  dead,  with- 
out saying  innocent  people  killed  him!  " 

'  Yes,  if  they  are  innocent,"  Dudley  re- 
turned so  quietly  that  it  surprised  both  of  us. 
"  But  I  tell  you  this,  Macartney,  and  Stretton 
too — if  any  one  within  a  hundred  miles  of  this 
mine  did  murder  Thompson,  Billy  Jones  or 
any  one  else,  it'll  come  out!  "  and  he  jerked  his 
head  around.  "  Don't  you  think  so,  Paul- 
ette?" 

"  I  ?  I  never  thought  of  poor  old  Thompson 
having  been  murdered!  "  She  answered  as  if 
she  were  startled,  but  she  did  not  turn.  "  If 
he  was  murdered  I  pray  God  it  will  be  found 
out,"  she  added  unexpectedly.  She  had  made 
two  false  starts  at  her  letter  and  torn  them  up, 
but  she  had  evidently  finished  it  to  her  liking 
now,  for  she  sat  with  the  pen  poised  over  the 
blank  end  of  the  sheet  to  sign  her  name.  Yet 
she  did  not  sign  it.  She  only  sat  there  ab- 
stractedly, with  her  hand  lifted  from  the  wrist. 

"  There,  you  see,"  Dudley  crowed  tri- 
umphantly. "  Paulette's  no  fool:  it's  facts 
she  and  I  are  after,  Macartney.  Why,  you 
take  the  history  of  crimes  generally — mur- 
ders— jewel  robberies — kidnapping  for  money 
— half  of  them  with  not  nearly  so  much  to 
them  as  this  thing  about  Thompson — they're 
always  found  out! " 

"  If  you're  going  to  talk  this  rubbish,  I'm 


n8    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

going  to  bed,"  Marcia  burst  out  wrathfully. 
I  saw  her  pause  to  catch  Macartney's  eye,  but 
for  once  his  set  gaze  was  on  the  floor.  She 
got  up,  which  I  don't  think  she  had  meant  to 
do,  and  flounced  out  of  the  room.  I  had  no 
idea  I  was  going  to  be  deadly  thankful. 

Macartney  answered  Dudley  as  the  door 
shut  behind  her.  "  I  don't  know  that  crimes 
are  always  found  out,  in  spite  of  your  faith — 
and  Miss  Paulette's,"  he  argued  half  crossly. 
"  I  could  remind  you  of  one  or  two  that  weren't. 
What  about  the  Mappin  murder,  way  back  in 
nineteen-five?  And  that  emerald  business  at 
the  Houstons'  country  house  this  spring,  with 
that  dancing  and  circus-riding  girl  who  used 
to  be  at  the  Hippodrome — the  Russian,  who 
did  Russian  dancing  on  her  horse's  back? 
What  was  her  name?  I  ought  to  remember. 
I  knew  a  poor  devil  of  a  cousin  of  hers  out  in 
British  Columbia  who  was  engaged  to  her  when 
it  happened,  and  he  talked  about  her  enough. 
Oh,  yes,  Valenka !  She  had  a  funny  Christian 
name  too,  sort  of  half  Russian,  only  I  forget 
it.  But  when  that  Valenka  girl  got  away  with 
an  emerald  necklace  from  the  Houstons'  house 
no  one  ever  found  out  how  it  was  done !  You 
must  have  heard  about  her,  Stretton?  " 

I  had.  Every  one  had :  Macartney  need  not 
have  troubled  to  hunt  his  memory  for  her 
Christian  name,  though  it  had  only  reached  me 


Tatiana  Paulina  Valenka!      129 

in  the  wilderness  through  a  stray  New  York 
paper.  But  before  I  could  say  so  Dudley 
burst  out  with  the  same  truculence  he  had  used 
about  Billy  Jones: 

"  What  d'ye  mean  Stretton  must  have 
heard?" 

"  Only  that  Mrs.  Houston  took  a  fancy  to 
Valenka  and  had  her  down  to  ride  and  dance 
at  a  week-end  party  at  her  house  in  Long 
Island;  that  on  Sunday  morning,  Jimmy  Van 
Ruyne,  one  of  the  guests,  was  found  in 
Valenka's  room,  soaked  with  morphine  and 
robbed — not  only  of  the  cash  in  his  pocket  in 
the  good  old  way,  but  of  an  emerald  necklace 
he  had  just  bought  at  Tiffany's;  and  that,  to 
this  day,  no  one  has  ever  laid  eyes  on  that  neck- 
lace nor  on  Valenka.  She's  free  and  red- 
handed  somewhere,  if  no  one  ever  found  out 
who  railroaded  her  and  Van  Ruyne's  emeralds 
out  of  the  United  States! " 

What  sent  Dudley  into  a  blazing  rage  was 
beyond  me.  But  he  fairly  yelled  at  Macart- 
ney. 

:<  Free  she  may  be,  but  when  you  say  '  red- 
handed  '  you  say  a  lie !  If  Jimmy  Van  Ruyne 
was  fool  enough  to  think  so,  it  was  because  no 
Van  Ruyne  ever  could  see  a.  b.  spelled  ab. 
D'ye  know  him?  Well,"  as  Macartney  shook 
his  head,  "  he's  a  rotter,  if  ever  there  was  one ! 
Got  more  money  than  he  knows  what  to  do 


130    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

with  and  always  chasing  after  women.  As  for 
Valenka,  if  you  think  she  came  out  of  a  circus 
and  was  fair  game,  that's  a  lie,  too!  She  was 
a  lady,  born  and  bred.  Her  mother  was 
American,  a  Miss  Bocqueraz;  and  her  father 
was  one  of  the  best  known  men  in  Petrograd, 
and  persona  grata  with  one  of  the  Grand 
Dukes  till  he  got  into  some  sort  of  political 
disgrace  and  died  of  it.  His  daughter  came 
to  America  and  danced  and  rode  for  her  liv- 
ing. First  because  she  was  beggared;  and 
second  because  she'd  been  taught  dancing  in 
the  Imperial  School  at  Petrograd  and  riding  in 
the  Grand  Duchess  Tatiana's  private  ring  for 
haute  manege;  and  was  a  corker  at  both.  She 
called  herself  plain  Valenka,  and  Jimmy  Van 
Ruyne  went  crazy  about  her — though  Mrs. 
Houston  didn't  know  it,  or  she  never  would 
have  asked  the  nasty  little  cad  to  a  spring 
week-end  party." 

"  To  lose  an  emerald  necklace  and  be 
stabbed  and  drugged,"  commented  Macartney 
drily.  "  Oh,  I'm  not  saying  the  Valenka  girl 
wasn't  a  marvellous  sight  on  a  horse !  But  what 
Van  Ruyne  told  the  police  was  that  he  gave 
his  string  of  emeralds  to  her  on  the  Saturday 
afternoon,  and  got  a  note  from  her  just  after 
dinner  saying  that  she  returned  them;  only 
the  case — in  the  time-honored  method  this 
time — was  empty  when  he  opened  it !  He  was 


Tatiana  Paulina  Valenka!      131 

blazing.  He  went  straight  up  to  Valenka's 
room  when  he  found  it  out,  which  was  at  two 
in  the  morning,  and  said  he  wanted  his  emer- 
alds ;  and  she  flew  at  him  with  a  dagger.  After 
which  he  knew  nothing  at  all  till  a  servant 
came  in  at  eight  and  found  him  lying  uncon- 
scious in  her  empty  room  that  she'd  just  walked 
out  of  with  his  emeralds  in  her  pocket.  And 
no  one's  ever  laid  eyes  on  her,  or  on  Van 
Ruyne's  emeralds  ever  since." 

;<  That's  what  Van  Ruyne  says,"  Dudley 
began  hotly — and  went  on  in  a  different  voice. 
14  The  Valenka  girl  never  stole  his  emeralds ! 
She  may  have  cut  him  across  the  wrist  with  one 
of  those  knife-things  women  will  use  for  paper 
cutters;  I  don't  say  she  didn't.  Any  girl 
would  have  been  justified  when  a  man  forced 
his  way  into  her  bedroom — for  I  bet  Van 
Ruyne  didn't  let  out  the  whole  story  of  that, 
if  he  did  let  out  that  he  bullied  her  when  he 
found  her  alone !  And  he  didn't  lay  any  stress, 
either,  on  the  fact  that  he  was  found  with  the 
cut  artery  in  his  wrist — that  was  all  the  stab- 
bing that  ailed  him — bound  up  as  a  surgeon 
would  have  done  it;  or  that  he'd  been  given 
just  enough  morphine  to  keep  him  from  wrig- 
gling off  his  bandage  and  bleeding  to  death 
before  anybody  came:  not  Van  Ruyne! " 

"All  that  doesn't  explain  how  Valenka  got 
away — or  what  became  of  her,"  said  Macartney 


132    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 
obstinately.     "  That's  the  mystery  I  began 


on." 


I  was  bored  stiff  with  the  whole  thing.  And 
whether  she  had  Van  Ruyne's  emeralds  or  not 
I  saw  no  particular  mystery  in  the  Valenka 
girl's  disappearance:  she  had  probably  had 
some  one  outside  who  had  taken  her  clear  away 
in  a  motor  car.  I  said  so,  more  because  Dud- 
ley was  glaring  at  Macartney  like  a  maniac 
than  anything  else.  And  Dudley  caught  me 
up  short.  "  I  won't  have  either  of  you  say 
one  more  word  about  Valenka  in  my  house. 
She  was  as  good  as  she  was  pretty;  and  if 
some  one  helped  her  away  she — deserved  it ! " 

There  was  something  so  like  honest  passion 
in  the  break  in  his  voice  that  involuntarily  I 
glanced  at  Paulette,  to  see  if  by  any  chance 
she  was  startled  at  Dudley's  evidently  intimate 
knowledge  of  a  girl  none  of  us  had  even  heard 
him  speak  of — and  it  took  every  bit  of  Indian 
quiet  I  owned  not  to  stare  at  her  so  hard  that 
Dudley  and  Macartney  must  have  noticed. 
She  was  listening,  as  motionless  as  if  she  were 
a  statue.  Her  lifted  hand  still  held  her  pen 
poised  over  her  unfinished  letter;  but  it  was 
rigid,  as  the  rest  of  her  was  rigid.  Whether  it 
was  from  anger,  surprise,  or  jealousy  of  Dud- 
ley, I  had  no  idea,  but  she  sat  as  if  she  had  been 
struck  dumb.  And  suddenly  I  was  not  sure 
if  she  were  perfectly  collected, — or  absolutely 


Tatiana  Paulina  Valenka!      133 

abstracted.  For — without  even  a  glance  to 
show  she  felt  my  eyes  on  her — the  carved  lines 
of  her  poised  hand  fell  to  the  level  of  her  wrist 
that  lay  flat  on  the  table,  and  she  began  to 
write  the  signature  to  her  unfinished  letter.  I 
could  see  every  separate  character  as  she 
shaped  it;  and  with  the  blazing  enlightenment 
of  what  she  set  down  on  paper  only  a  merciful 
heaven  kept  my  wits  in  my  skull  and  my  tongue 
quiet  in  my  head. 

For  the  signature  she  wrote  as  plainly  as  I 
write  it  now  was  not  Paulette  Brown.  It  was 
Tatiana  Paulina — that "  queer  Christian  name, 
half  Russian  too,"  of  the  dancing  circus-rider, 
that  no  one  had  ever  mentioned, — Tatiana 
Paulina  Valenka! 


CHAPTER  X 

I  INTERFERE  FOR  THE  LAST  TIME 

"Must  I  go  now — in  the  moonlight  clear? 

Wonld  God  that  it  were  dark, 
That  I  might  pass  like  a  homeless  hound 
Men  neither  miss  nor  mark. ' ' 

The  Ransom. 

TATIANA  PAULINA  VALENKA! 

I  sat  as  still  as  if  I  had  been  stabbed.  It 
was  no  wonder  she  had  laughed  when  I  asked 
her  if  she  could  ride,  no  wonder  I  had  thought 
she  moved  like  Pavlova.  Paulette  Brown, 
whom  Dudley  had  brought  to  La  Chance,  was 
Tatiana  Paulina  Valenka,  who  had  or  had  not 
stolen  Van  Ruyne's  emeralds!  But  the  blood 
sprang  into  my  face  at  the  knowledge,  for — by 
all  the  holy  souls  and  my  dead  mother's  name — 
she  was  my  dream  girl  too!  And  I  believed 
in  her. 

All  the  same,  I  was  thankful  Marcia  had 
flounced  out  of  the  room  before  Dudley  let 
loose.  It  was  no  wonder  she  had  thought  she 
had  seen  Paulette  Brown  before.  The  wonder 
was  that  she  had  ever  forgotten  how  she  had 


I  Interfere  For  Last  Time     135 

seen  her — dancing  at  the  Hippodrome  on  her 
four  horses  as  no  girl  ever  had  danced — or  for- 
gotten the  story  about  her  that  she  had  said 
was  "  queer  "1  If  Marcia's  eyes  had  fallen  on 
the  signature  mine  were  on  now,  I  knew  her 
first  act  would  have  been  to  write  to  Jimmy 
Van  Ruyne;  that  even  if  she  had  only  heard 
Dudley  defending  an  ostensibly  absent  Va- 
lenka  she  would  have  written — for  Marcia  was 
no  fool.  Then  and  there  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  Marcia  should  never  guess  the  whole  of 
what  she  already  half-guessed  about  Paulette 
Brown;  there  were  ways  I  could  stop  that. 

As  for  Dudley But  a  sudden  tide  of 

respect  for  Dudley,  in  spite  of  his  drink  and  all 
his  queerness,  rose  flood-high  in  me.  It 
had  been  Dudley,  of  course,  who  had  got 
Paulette  away, — for  I  could  not  think  of  her 
as  Tatiana  Paulina.  How,  I  did  not  know ;  I 
knew  he  had  not  been  one  of  the  Houstons' 
week-end  party;  but  he  had  done  it  somehow, 
and  spirited  Paulette  out  to  La  Chance.  As 
for  the  rest,  a  fool  could  have  told  that  he 
respected  and  believed  in  her.  If  it  had  been 
risky  bringing  Marcia  out  into  the  wilderness 
with  her,  it  had  been  clever  too,  because  it  was 
so  bold  that  Marcia  had  never  suspected  it. 
Even  I  never  would  have,  if  Macartney  had 
not  brought  up  Miss  Valenka's  name.  I  knew 
he  had  done  it  merely  to  get  Dudley  off  his 


136    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

cracked  idea  that  Billy  Jones  might  have  mur- 
dered Thompson,  but  I  was  suddenly  nervous 
that  Dudley's  fool  vehemence  over  a  missing 
girl  might  have  set  Macartney  on  the  track  of 
things, — and  heaven  knows  that,  except  he  was 
a  competent  mine  superintendent,  I  knew 
little  enough  how  far  it  would  be  safe  to  trust 
Macartney.  But  suddenly  one  thing  I  did 
know  flashed  over  me.  Macartney  and  Marcia 
were  a  firm,  or  going  to  be ;  and  I  was  instantly 
scared  blue  that  he  might  turn  around  and  see 
that  name  Paulette  Brown  had  signed  to  her 
letter,  lying  plain  under  the  living-room  lamp ! 
I  knew  I  had  to  wake  Paulette  up  to  what  she 
had  done  and  shut  up  Dudley  before  he  let  out 
any  more  intimate  details  the  public  had  never 
known,  like  Van  Ruyne's  bandaged  wrist.  I 
yawned  and  got  up,  with  one  hand  on  the  table, 
and  my  forefinger  pointing  straight  to  that 
black  signature  of  Tatiana  Paulina  Valenka 
that  ought  to  have  been  Paulette  Brown. 

"  I'm  like  Marcia,  Miss  Paulette;  I'm  going 
to  bed  unless  you  can  turn  off  Dudley's  elo- 
quence. Oh,  I'm  so  sorry — I'm  afraid  I've 
blotted  your  letter,"  I  said.  I  tapped  my 
finger  on  it  soundlessly  —  and  she  looked 
down, — and  saw! 

I  said  once  before  that  my  dream  girl  had 
good  nerves;  she  had  iron  ones.  I  need  not 
have  been  afraid  she  would  exclaim.  She  said 


I  Interfere  For  Last  Time      137 

quite  naturally:  "  No,  it's  all  right.  And  it 
wasn't  a  letter,  anyhow.  It  was  only  some- 
thing I  wanted  to  make  clear."  She  picked  it 
up,  folded  it  small,  gathered  up  the  bits  of 
paper  she  had  written  on  and  torn  up,  and 
turned  round  to  Dudley.  "  What  are  you 
talking  about  all  this  time?  " 

But  if  her  glance  warned  him  to  hold  his 
tongue,  as  heaven  knows  her  mere  presence 
would  have  warned  me,  Dudley  was  too  roused 
to  care.  "  I  was  talking  about  that  liar,  Van 
Ruyne,"  he  said,  glaring  at  Macartney. 

"  He  may  be  a  liar,  all  right,"  said  Macart- 
ney rather  unpleasantly.  "  Only,  if  that  Va- 
lenka  girl  didn't  steal  his  emeralds,  Mr.  Wil- 
braham,  who  did? " 

;<  That  cousin  of  hers  you  said  you  knew; 
Hutton,  or  whatever  you  said  his  name  was," 
Dudley  retorted,  like  a  fool,  for  Macartney 
had  never  mentioned  the  man's  name.  "  How, 
I  don't  know,  but  I'm  certain  of  it.  He  was 
more  in  love  with  her  than  Van  Ruyne,  and 
more  dangerous,  for  all  you  say  he  was  a  good 
sort.  Why,  he  was  the  kind  to  stick  at  noth- 
ing. Miss  Valenka  had  had  the  sense  to  turn 
him  down  hard;  and  I  believe  he  stole  that 
necklace  of  Van  Ruyne's  from  her  during  the 
short  time  she  had  it — either  just  to  get  her 
into  trouble  and  be  revenged  on  her,  or  to  get 
her  into  his  power.  Whichever  it  was — to 


138    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

blackmail  her — for  he'd  cadged  on  her  for 
money  before  her  father  died — or  to  scare  her 
into  going  to  him  for  help— I'd  like  to  hunt 
the  worthless  hound  down  for  it.  And  I'd 
never  stop  till  I  got  him!" 

"  Like  poor  old  Thompson's  murderer," 
Macartney  commented  rather  drily,  "  and  with 
no  more  foundation."  But  the  thought  of 
Thompson  seemed  to  have  brought  his  self- 
command  back  to  him ;  he  tried  to  smooth  Dud- 
ley down.  "  I  don't  honestly  believe  old 
Thompson  could  have  been  murdered,"  he  said 
gently,  "  or  that  Miss  Valenka's  cousin  could 
have  stolen  those  jewels,  for  any  reason.  He 
seemed  a  pretty  good  sort  when  I  knew  him 
in  British  Columbia.  He  was  a  clever  mining 
engineer,  too." 

"  He  might  have  been  the  devil  for  all  I 
care!  Only  if  ever  I  come  across  him  I'll  get 
those  emeralds  out  of  his  skin,"  Dudley  ex- 
ploded. Paulette  gave  one  glance  at  him.  It 
would  have  killed  me;  but  even  Dudley  saw 
how  he  was  giving  himself  away  to  a  stranger. 

"  Why  under  heaven  do  you  work  me  up 
about  abstract  justice,  Macartney? "  he 
growled.  "  You  know  how  I  lose  my  temper. 
Talk  about  something  else,  for  goodness  sake!" 

"  Not  I — I'm  going  to  bed,"  Macartney  re- 
turned casually.  Dudley  always  did  work  him- 
self up  over  things  that  were  none  of  his  busi- 


I  Interfere  For  Last  Time     139 

ness,  and  the  Valenka  argument  evidently  had 
not  struck  his  superintendent  as  anything  out 
of  the  ordinary.  He  nodded  and  went  out. 
Paulette  strayed  to  the  fireplace,  and  I  saw 
her  handful  of  papers  blaze  up  before  she 
moved  away.  I  was  thankful  when  that  signa- 
ture of  Tatiana  Paulina  Valenka  was  off  the 
earth,  even  if  Macartney  had  gone  out  of  the 
room.  Paulette  said  good  night,  and  went  out 
on  his  heels. 

I  heard  Macartney  ask  her  something  as  she 
passed  him  where  he  stood  in  the  passage,  get- 
ting on  his  coat  to  go  over  to  the  assay  office, 
where  he  slept.  I  thought  it  was  about  Marcia, 
from  the  tone  of  his  voice,  and  from  Paulette's 
answer,  cursory  and  indistinct  through  the 
closed  door:  "  I  know.  I'm  going  to."  She 
added  something  I  could  not  hear  at  all,  but  I 
heard  Macartney  say  sharply  that  to-morrow 
would  be  too  late. 

Paulette  said  "  yes,"  and  then  "  yes  "  again, 
as  though  he  gave  her  a  message.  Then  she 
spoke  out  clearly:  "  There's  nothing  else  to  say. 
I'll  do  it  now."  I  heard  her  move  away,  I 
thought  to  Marcia's  door.  Macartney  went 
out  the  front  door,  banging  it. 

I  had  no  desire  to  go  to  bed.  I  felt  as  if  I 
had  walked  from  Dan  to  Beersheba  and  been 
knocked  down  and  robbed  on  the  way.  I  knew 
my  dream  girl  was  not  mine,  now  or  ever,  be- 


140    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

cause  she  was  Dudley's,  but  I  had  never 
thought  of  her  being  anything  like  Tatiana 
Paulina  Valenka.  It  was  not  the  jewel  story 
that  hit  me:  I  knew  she  had  not  stolen  Van 
Ruyne's  old  necklace,  no  matter  how  things 
looked.  It  was  that  she  must  care  for  Dudley, 
or  she  would  never  have  let  him  bring  her  out 
here.  And  another  thing  hit  me  harder  still, 
and  that  was  Hutton, — the  cousin  Macartney 
said  was  engaged  to  her,  and  Dudley  said 
cadged  on  her,  till  he  ended  by  branding  her 
as  a  thief  and  getting  away  with  the  spoils. 
And  the  crazy  thought  that  jumped  into  my 
head,  without  any  earthly  reason,  was  that  it 
was  just  Hutton  who  had  been  hounding  her 
at  La  Chance;  that,  while  I  had  been  addling 
my  brains  with  suspecting  Collins,  it  was  Hut- 
ton  that  Paulette  Brown — whose  real  name 
was  Valenka — had  stolen  out  to  meet  in  the 
dark! 

Once  I  thought  of  it,  I  was  dead  sure  Hut- 
ton  had  followed  her  to  La  Chance.  I  knew 
from  my  own  ears  that  she  hated  and  distrusted 
the  man  for  whom  she  had  once  mistaken  me, 
that  it  was  he  from  whom  she  had  tried  to  pro- 
tect my  gold;  and  I  wondered  with  a  horror 
that  made  me  too  sick  to  swear,  if  it  were 
Hutton  himself,  and  not  Dunn  nor  Collins, 
who  had  cached  that  wolf  dope  in  my  wagon! 
If  it  were,  he  had  not  cared  about  wolves  kill- 


I  Interfere  For  Last  Time     141 

ing  the  girl  who  drove  with  me,  so  long  as  he 
got  my  gold.  But  there  I  saw  I  was  making 
a  fool  of  myself,  for  he  could  not  have  known 
she  was  going.  I  steadied  my  mind  on  the 
thing,  like  you  steady  a  machine. 

If  Hutton  had  been  hanging  around  La 
Chance,  either  from  so-called  love,  or  to  get 
Paulette  into  a  mess  with  our  gold,  as  Dudley 
swore  he  had  with  Van  Ruyne's  emeralds,  he 
could  not  have  been  seen  about  the  mine, — for 
Macartney  would  have  recognized  him  and 
given  him  away.  He  must  be  cached  in  the 
bush  somewhere,  waiting  his  chance  to  grab  our 
gold  and  incriminate  Paulette,  as  cqmmon 
sense  told  me  she  expected.  I  was  sure  as 
death  he  had  a  gang  somewhere,  for  no  out- 
sider would  try  to  run  that  business  alone; 
Collins  and  Dunn  might  have  been  on  their  way 
to  join  it  the  night  they  got  scuppered,  very 
likely:  they  were  just  devils  enough.  But  if 
they  had  started  out  to  meet  Hutton  at  my 
corduroy  road  they  had  never  got  there,  and  I 
was  pretty  sure  the  rest  of  the  gang  hadn't 
either,  and  Hutton — alone — had  been  scared 
to  shoot  at  us  and  give  himself  away. 

That  thought  assured  me  of  two  things.  It 
was  Dunn  and  Collins  who  had  hidden  the  wolf 
bait  in  my  wagon,  for  Hutton  could  never  have 
done  it  and  reached  the  corduroy  road  before 
us;  and  Paulette  must  really  hate  Hutton 


142    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

savagely,  for  she  must  have  known  whom  she 
was  shooting  at  on  my  swamp  roadl  That 
made  me  feel  better — a  little — but  there  was 
something  I  wanted  to  know.  I  turned  on 
Dudley  for  it. 

"  Look  here,  I  never  heard  anything  about 
Valenka  but  newspapers'  stories,  till  to-night. 
But,  if  you  know  the  inside  of  the  business, 
how  did  that  cousin  Macartney  was  talking  of 
ever  get  hold  of  that  emerald  necklace?  Didn't 
Macartney  imply  he  was  in  British  Colum- 
bia? " 

"  He  was  more  likely  anywhere  than  where 
he'd  have  to  work — if  he  could  get  money  out 
of  a  girl,"  Dudley  snapped.  "  What  I  think 
is  that  he  was  masquerading  as  a  servant  in  the 
Houstons'  house — a  chauffeur,  perhaps — any- 
thing, that  would  let  him  hang  round  and  drive 
a  girl  half  wild.  He  was  a  plain  skunk.  I 
don't  know  how  he  managed  the  thing,  but  I 
know  he  was  there  in  the  Houstons'  house, 
somehow,  if  Paulette  doesn't  think  so  " — he 
forgot  all  about  the  Valenka — "  and  that  he 
took  those  emeralds;  left  the  girl  powerless 
even  to  think  so;  and  disappeared.  I  never 
saw  him;  don't  even  know  what  he  looks  like. 
But  if  ever  I  get  a  chance  I'll  hand  him  over  to 
the  law  as  I'd  hand  a  man  I  caught  throwing 
a  bomb  at  a  child!" 

I  said  involuntarily:  "  Shut  up! "    I  knew 


I  Interfere  For  Last  Time      143 

it  was  silly,  but  I  felt  as  if  walls  might  have 
ears  in  a  house  that  sheltered  Paulette  Brown, 
— though  I  knew  Marcia  was  in  bed  and  asleep, 
and  there  was  no  one  else  who  could  hear. 
'  You're  never  likely  to  see  him  here,  anyhow," 
I  added,  since  I  meant  to  see  him  myself  first, 
somehow;  after  which  I  trusted  he  was  not 
likely  to  matter.  And  I  thought  of  something 
to  change  the  subject.  '  What  were  you  going 
to  say  to-night  about  no  one  having  seen 
poor  old  Thompson — when  you  cut  yourself 
off?" 

"  Oh,  that,"  Dudley  replied  almost  care- 
lessly. "  It  mayn't  amount  to  anything,  and 
I  only  shut  up  because  I  didn't  want  Macart- 
ney to  take  the  wind  out  of  my  sails  by  saying 
so.  It  was  just  that  if  Thompson  ever  went 
to  Caraquet  it  ought  to  be  simple  enough  to 
find  the  boy  who  took  his  horse  back  to  Billy 
Jones,  and — there's  apparently  no  such  boy 
in  Caraquet!  What  set  me  on  Billy  Jones 
first  was  that  he  stammered  and  stuttered 
about  not  knowing  him,  till  I  don't  believe 
there  ever  was  any  such  boy.  He's  never  been 
heard  of  since,  any  more  than  if  he'd  gone  into 
the  ground.  And  what  I  want  to  know  is 
why? — if  it's  all  straight  about  Thompson  and 
Billy  Jones!" 

I  was  silent,  remembering — I  don't  know 
why — the  half-dead  boy  I  had  carried  home  to 


144  The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery- 
Skunk's  Misery.  There  was  no  cause  to  con- 
nect him  with  the  return  of  Thompson's  horse 
to  the  Halfway,  yet  somehow  my  mind  did 
connect  him  with  it,  obstinately.  I  had  never 
really  discovered  how  he  had  been  hurt  by  a 
falling  tree,  and  without  reason  some  animal 
instinct  told  me  the  two  things  belonged  to- 
gether and  that  they  were  queer.  But  before 
I  could  say  so,  Dudley  burst  into  unexpected 
speech,  his  little  pig's  eyes  as  fierce  as  a  tiger's : 
"  Look  here,  Stretton!  I'm  going  to  find  out 
who  drowned  Thompson,  and  who  took  Van 
Ruyne's  emeralds — and  hand  them  both  over 
to  the  law,  if  I  die  for  it.  And  when  I  say 
that  you  know  I  mean  it ! " 

I  did.  But  once  more  I  made  no  answer, 
for  I  thought  I  heard  Marcia  in  the  passage. 
I  am  quick  on  my  feet,  and  I  was  outside  the 
door  before  I  finished  thinking  it.  But  it  was 
not  Marcia  outside;  it  was  only  Macartney. 
Yet  I  stopped  short  and  stared  at  him,  for  it 
was  a  Macartney  I  had  never  seen.  He  was 
close  to  the  living-room  door,  just  as  if  he  had 
been  listening  to  Dudley,  and  his  face  was  the 
face  of  a  devil.  I  never  want  to  see  set  eyes 
like  his  again.  But  all  the  effect  they  had  on 
me  was  to  make  me  furiously  angry,  and  I 
swore  at  him. 

'  What  the  devil's  the  matter  with  you, 
Macartney?   What  do  you  want? " 


I  Interfere  For  Last  Time      145 

"  My  keys,"  roughly.  "  I  left  them  some- 
where around  this  passage  and  I  had  to  come 
back  for  them;  I  couldn't  get  into  my  office. 
As  for  what's  the  matter " — he  lowered  his 
voice  and  motioned  me  some  feet  away,  out  of 
the  light  from  the  living-room  door — "  I  heard 
all  Wilbraham  said  just  now,  and  by  gad,  the 
man's  crazy !  We've  got  to  get  him  off  all  that 
rot  about  Billy  Jones,  or  any  one  else,  murder- 
ing Thompson ;  it's  stark  madness.  Both  of  us 
know  Billy  wouldn't  murder  a  cat!  And 
there's  another  thing,  too!  I  heard  all  Wil- 
braham said  about  thai  Valenka  girl's  cousin, 
and  I  wish  you'd  tell  him  to  go  slow  on  it.  I 
was  in  too  much  of  a  rage,  or  I'd  have  gone  in 
and  Jtold  him  myself.  Dick  Hutton  was  a 
friend  of  mine ;  no  matter  how  much  he  was  in 
love  with  a  girl  who'd  got  sick  of  him  for  Van 
Ruyne,  he  wasn't  the  kind  to  sneak  round  the 
Houstons'  house  as  a  servant.  I  won't  let 
any  one  say  that  with  impunity.  It's  no  use 
my  telling  Wilbraham  so  in  the  state  he's  in 
to-night,  but  you  might  gently  hint  it  when 
you've  a  chance.  I  wish  to  heaven  he'd  give 
up  drink  arid  drugs  and  being  an  amateur 
detective ! "  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  with 
a  complete  return  to  his  ordinary  manner. 
"  I'm  sorry  I  startled  you  just  now,  but  I  was 
too  cursed  angry  to  say  I  was  here.  Oh, 
there  are  my  keys ! "  He  stooped,  picked  them 


146    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

up  off  the  floor,  and  went  out  with  a  careless 
good  night. 

"  Was  that  Macartney? "  Dudley  inquired 
as  I  went  back  to  him.  "  I  thought  he'd 
gone ! " 

"  Forgot  the  office  key  and  came  back  for 
it."  I  felt  no  call  to  enter  on  Macartney's 
embassy  regarding  Hutton.  "  Going  to  bed?  " 

Dudley  gulped  down  a  horn  of  whisky  that 
would  have  settled  any  two  men  in  the  bunk 
house,  nodded,  and  shut  the  door  behind  him. 
I  put  out  the  light  and  sat  on  in  the  living 
room  alone,  how  long  I  don't  know.  I  had 
nothing  pleasant  to  think  of,  either.  It  was 
no  use  my  trying  to  imagine  that  Tatiana 
Paulina  Valenka  was  not  going  to  marry 
Dudley,  whatever  I  had  hoped  about  Paul- 
ette  Brown.  As  far  as  any  chance  of  her 
loving  me  was  concerned,  I  had  lost  my  dream 
girl  forever.  She  was  none  of  my  business  any 
more,  except  that — "  By  gad,  she  is  my  busi- 
ness," I  thought  in  a  sudden  bitter  fury,  "  as 
far  as  Hutton  and  our  gold!  If  I'm  right, 
and  he's  hiding  round  here,  I'll  put  a  stopper 
on  any  more  hold-ups.  And  I'll  make  good 
and  sure  she  never  goes  out  to  meet  him  again, 
too!" 

As  I  swore  it  I  turned  away  from  the  dead 
fire  and  the  dark  room,  that  looked  as  if  we'd 
all  deserted  it  hours  ago,  and  went  Indian- 


I  Interfere  For  Last  Time      147 

silent  into  the  hallwav.  And  my  heart  con- 
tracted in  a  hard,  tighc  lump. 

The  passage  was  light  as  day,  with  the  moon 
full  on  the  window  at  the  end  of  it.  And 
wrapped  in  a  shawl,  with  her  back  to  me,  stood 
my  dream  girl,  undoing  the  front  door  as  noise- 
lessly as  I  had  come  into  the  passage. 

I  let  her  do  it.  The  hallway  on  which  Mar- 
cia's  bedroom  door  opened,  let  alone  Dudley's, 
was  no  place  for  Paulette  Brown  and  myself 
to  talk.  But  I  was  just  three  feet  behind  her 
as  she  slid  around  the  corner  of  the  shack,  to- 
ward the  bush  that  lay  dark  against  the  cold 
winter  moon.  And  I  rustled  with  my  feet  on 
purpose,  so  that  she  turned  and  saw  me,  with 
the  moon  full  on  my  face. 

"  You  sha'n't  do  it,"  I  said.  I  did  not  know 
I  had  made  a  stride  to  her  till  I  felt  her  arm 
under  my  hand.  "  You  sha'n't  go ! " 

My  dream  girl,  who  had  two  names  and 
belonged  to  Dudley  anyhow,  said  nothing  at 
all.  She  and  I,  who  had  really  nothing  to  do 
with  one  another,  if  I  would  have  laid  my  soul 
under  her  little  feet,  stood  still  in  the  cold 
moonlight,  looking  inimically  into  one  an- 
other's eyes. 


CHAPTER  XI 

MACARTNEY  HEARS  A  NOISE:  AND  I  FIND 
FOUR  DEAD  MEN 

WE  must  have  stood  silent  for  a  good  three 
minutes.  I  think  I  was  furious  because  Paul- 
ette  did  not  speak  to  me.  I  said,  "  You're  not 
to  go — you're  never  to  go  and  meet  Hutton 
again,  as  long  as  you  live !  "  And  for  the  first 
time  I  saw  my  dream  girl  flinch  from  me. 

'  What?  "  she  gasped  so  low  I  could  hardly 
hear.  '  You  know  that?  What  am  I  going  to 
do?  My  God,  what  am  I  going  to  do? " 

'  You're  coming  back  into  the  shack  with 
me !  "  We  were  on  the  blind  side  of  the  house 
for  Marcia  and  Dudley,  but  we  were  in  plain 
view  from  Charliet's  window,  and  I  was  not 
going  to  have  even  .a  cook  look  out  and  see 
Paulette  talking  to  a  man  in  the  middle  of  the 
night.  Her  despair  cut  me;  I  had  never  seen 
her  anything  but  valiant  before,  and  I  had  a 
lump  in  my  throat.  But  I  spoke  roughly 
enough.  "  I  didn't  know  the  whole  of  things 
till  to-night,  but  now  I  do,  you'll  have  to  trust 
me.  Can't  you  see  I  mean  to  do  all  I  can  to 


Macartney  Hears  a  Noise      149 

help  you — and  Dudley?"  If  it  were  tough 
to  have  to  add  Dudley  I  did  it.  But  I  felt  her 
start  furiously. 

"  Dudley?  "  she  repeated  almost  scornfully. 
"  Nobody  can  help  Dudley  but  me — and 
there's  only  one  way!  Mr.  Stretton,  I  prom- 
ise you  I'll  never  ask  again,  but — for  God's 
sake  let  me  go  to  meet  Dick  Hutton  to-night !  " 

"  Not  blindly,"  said  I  brutally.  "  If  you 
tell  me  why,  perhaps — but  we  can't  talk  here. 
If  you'll  come  into  the  house  and  trust  me 
about  what  you  want  to  do,  I  may  let  you  go — 
just  this  once — if  I  think  it's  the  right  way !  " 

"  I've  only  half  an  hour  before  it's  too  late — 
for  any  way ! "  But  she  turned  under  the 
hand  I  had  never  lifted  from  her  arm. 

I  led  her  noiselessly  into  the  office.  I  was 
afraid  of  the  living  room.  Marcia  might  come 
back  to  it  for  a  book  or  something.  No  one  but 
Dudley  ever  went  near  the  office,  and  he  was 
safely  dead  to  the  world,  judging  from  the 
horn  of  whisky  he  had  gone  to  bed  on.  The 
place  was  freezing,  for  the  inside  sash  was  up, 
leaving  only  the  double  window  between  us  and 
the  night;  and  it  was  black-dark  too,  with  the 
moon  on  the  other  side  of  the  house.  But 
there  were  more  things  than  love  to  talk  about 
in  the  dark, — to  a  dream  girl  you  would  give 
your  soul  to  call  your  own,  and  know  you  never 
will.  And  I  began  bluntly,  "  You've  never 


150    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

had  any  reason  to  distrust  me.  I've  helped 
you " 

!<  Three  times,"  sharply.  "  I  know.  I've 
been — grateful." 

It  was  four,  counting  to-night  when  I  had 
warned  her  to  hide  her  signature  from  Macart- 
ney; but  I  was  not  picking  at  trifles.  I  said: 
'  Well,  I've  trusted  you,  too !  I  knew  the 
first  night  I  came  back  here  that  you  were 
meeting  some  man  secretly,  in  the  dark.  But 
it  was  none  of  my  business  and  I  held  my 
tongue  about  it;  then,  and  when  you  met  him 
again — when  it  was  my  business." 

"  Again?  "  I  heard  the  little  start  she  gave, 
if  I  could  not  see  it. 

'  The  night  before  you  and  I  took  the  gold 
out,"  I  answered  practically,  "  when  I  told  you 
your  hair  was  untidy.  I  suppose  you  only 
thought  I  knew  you  had  been  out  of  doors,  but 
I  heard  the  man  you  met  leave  you  and  heard 
you  say  to  yourself  that  you'd  have  to  get  hold 
of  the  gold.  I  didn't  know  whether  you  were 
honest  or  not  then,  or  when  I  gave  you  back 
your  little  seal ;  and  not  even  when  you  started 
for  Billy  Jones's  with  me.  I  knew  by  the  time 
I  got  there,  if  I  was  fool  enough  to  believe  it 
was  Collins  you  were  fighting  instead  of  help- 
ing. But  any  fool  must  see  now  that  Hutton 
was  the  only  man  likely  to  have  followed  you 
out  here!  I  suppose  he  told  you  some  lie 


Macartney  Hears  a  Noise      151 

about  giving  you  up  for  Van  Ruyne's  necklace, 
unless  you  made  silence  worth  while  with  Dud- 
ley's gold? "  and  her  assent  made  me  angry 
clear  through. 

"  My  soul,  girl,"  I  burst  out,  "  you  balked 
him  about  that,  even  when  you  knew  he'd  put 
that  wolf  dope  in  my  wagon,  and  you  were 
risking  your  life — you  put  a  bullet  in  him  in 
the  swamp — I  can't  see  why  you  should  be 
worrying  to  conciliate  him  by  meeting  him 
to-night!" 

But  she  caught  me  up  almost  stupidly. 
"  Put  a  bullet  in  him?  I  didn't — you  must 
know  I  didn't!" 

"  There  was  blood  in  the  swamp  and  on  the 
road!" 

I  felt  her  staring  at  me  in  the  dark.  "  It 
wasn't  Dick's,"  she  said  almost  inaudibly. 
"  It  must  have  been  some  one  else's.  And — 
he  doesn't  know  it  was  he  I  shot  at  that 
night!" 

"  It  might  do  him  good  if  he  did! "  I  felt 
like  shaking  her,  if  I  had  not  wanted  to  take 
her  in  my  arms  more.  "  Can't  you  see  you've 
no  reason  to  worry  about  Hutton?  If  Dudley 
told  the  truth  to-night,  and  he  stole  those  em- 
eralds and  shifted  the  crime  on  to  you,  it's  you 
who  have  the  whip  hand  of  him !  " 

"  But  he  didn't,"  Paulette  exclaimed  wildly. 
"He  wasn't  near  the  Houstons'  house!  It's 


152    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

mad  of  Dudley  to  think  so.  I  know  he  be- 
lieves it,  but — oh,  it's  mad  all  the  same !  And 
even  if  Dick  did  take  those  emeralds — though 
I  can't  see  how  it  was  possible — it  wouldn't 
clear  me!  It  would  only  mean  he  was  able 
to  drag  me  into  it,  somehow." 

"But  you  never  touched  the  necklace!" 
For  I  knew  that. 

"  No,"  simply,  "  but  I'm  afraid  of  Dick  all 
the  more.  If  he  did  take  it,  to  get  me  into  his 
power  " — she  caught  my  arm  in  her  slim  hands 
I  had  always  known  were  so  strong—  •"  can't 
you  see  he's  got  me?"  she  said  between  her 
teeth,  "  and  that,  next  thing,  he'll  get  the  La 
Chance  gold?  If  you  don't  let  me  meet  him 

to-night  I'll  be  helpless.  I Oh,  can't 

you  see  I'll  be  like  a  rat  in  a  trap? — not  able  to 
do  anything?  I  can  make  him  go  away,  if  I 
meet  him !  Otherwise  " — the  passion  in  her 
voice  kept  it  down  to  a  whisper — "  it's  not  only 
that  I'm  afraid  he  can  make  things  look  as  if  I 
stole  from  Dudley  as  well  as  from  Van  Ruyne: 
I'm  afraid — for  Dudley! " 

The  two  last  words  gave  me  a  jar.  I  would 
have  given  most  of  the  world  to  ask  if  she  loved 
Dudley,  but  I  didn't  dare:  I  suppose  a  girl 
could  love  a  man  with  a  face  like  an  egg,  if  she 
owed  him  enough.  But  whether  she  cared  for 
him  or  not,  "  By  gad,  you've  got  to  tell  Dudley 
that  Hutton's  here,"  I  said  roughly,  because  I 


Macartney  Hears  a  Noise      153 

was  sick  with  the  knowledge  that  anyhow  she 
did  not  love  me. 

'Tell  him?"  Paulette  gasped  through  the 
dark  that  was  like  a  curtain  between  us.  "  I've 
told  him  twenty  times — all  I  dared.  And  he 
wouldn't  listen  to  a  word  I  said.  Ask  him: 
he'll  tell  you  that's  true!  " 

I  had  no  doubt  it  was.  Even  on  business 
Dudley's  brain  ran  on  lines  of  its  own;  you 
might  tell  him  a  thing  till  you  were  black  in 
the  face,  and  he  would  never  believe  it.  Lately, 
between  drugs  and  drink,  he  was  past  assimi- 
lating any  impersonal  ideas  at  all.  Macartney 
was  so  worried  about  him  that  he'd  told  off 
Baker,  one  of  his  new  men,  to  go  wherever 
Dudley  went.  I  had  no  use  for  the  man:  he 
was  a  black  and  white  looking  devil  and  slim 
as  they  make  them,  in  my  opinion,  though 
Dudley  took  to  him  as  though  he  were  a  long- 
lost  brother  luckily, — how  luckily  I  couldn't 
know.  But  I  wasn't  thinking  about  Baker 
that  night. 

"  We  can't  worry  over  Dudley,"  I  said 
shortly,  "  he'll  have  to  take  care  of  himself. 
But  you  won't  be  helpless  with  Hutton,  if  I 
meet  him  to-night — in  your  place !  " 

"  You?  I  couldn't  bear  you  to  be  in  it! "  so 
sharply  that  I  winced. 

"  It  won't  hurt  you  to  take  that  much  from 
me ! "  It  wasn't  till  long  afterwards  that  I 


154    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

knew  I'd  been  a  fool  not  to  have  said  it  with 
my  arms  round  her,  while  I  told  her  why — but 
since  I  didn't  do  it  there's  no  sense  in  talking 
about  it.  I  went  on  baldly:  "  I've  got  to  be 
in  it!  I'm  not  concerned  with  post-mortems 
and  your  past.  All  I  know,  personally,  is  that 
Hutton's  hiding  somewhere  round  this  mine 
to  hold  up  our  gold  shipments  and  get  even 
with  Dudley;  and  if  you'll  tell  me  where  to 
meet  him  to-night  I  can  stop  both — and  be 
saved  the  trouble  of  looking  for  him  from  here 
to  Caraquet,  let  alone  getting  you  some  peace 
of  mind  instead  of  the  hell  you're  living  in." 

"  Oh,  my  God,"  said  Paulette,  exactly  as  if 
she  were  in  church.  "  I  can't  take  peace  of 
mind  like  blood-money — I  can't  tell  you  where 
to  find  Dick,  if  you  don't  know  now,"  and  I 
should  have  known  why  if  I  had  had  any  sense, 
but  I  had  none.  "  It's  no  use,  Mr.  Stretton,  I 
must  go  to  Dick,  alone.  I "  But  sud- 
denly she  blazed  out  at  me:  "I  won't  let  you 
see  him!  And  I'm  going  to  him — now.  Take 
your  hand  off  me !  " 

I  tightened  it.     "  You'll  stay  here!    Please! 
And  you  can't  go  on  preventing  me  from  meet- 
ing Hutton,  either.     What  about  the  first  time 
I  take  any  gold  out  over  the  Caraquet  road— 
and    he    and    his    gang    try    a    hold-up    on 

•  o  >»  A 

me? 

I  said  gang  without  thinking,  for  I  was  nat- 


Macartney  Hears  a  Noise      155 

urally  dead  sure  he  had  one.  But  I  was  not 
prepared  to  have  the  cork  come  straight  out  of 
the  bottle.  Paulette  clutched  me  till  I  bit  my 
lip  to  keep  steady. 

"  His  gang's  what  I'm  afraid  of — for  Dud- 
ley," she  gasped,  which  certainly  steadied  me — 
like  a  bucket  of  ice.  "  Look  here,  when  first 
I  met  Dick,  he  told  me  things,  to  frighten  me — 
that  he'd  eighteen  or  twenty  men  laid  up  be- 
tween here  and  Caraquet — enough  to  raid  us 
here,  even,  if  he  chose.  It  was  because  I  knew 
they  were  waiting  somewhere  on  the  road  that 
night  that  I  drove  to  Billy  Jones's  with  you. 
It  was  one  of  them  I  shot  when  we  tore  through 
the  swamp.  But  something  went  wrong  with 
them;  either  they'd  no  guns,  or  they  didn't 
want  to  give  themselves  away  by  shooting  when 
they  saw  we  were  ready — I  don't  know.  But 
anyhow,  something  went  wrong.  And  Dick 
was  black  angry.  He — the  last  time  I  spoke 
to  him — he  wouldn't  even  tell  me  what  he'd 
done  with  his  gang;  just  said  he  had  them 
somewhere  safe,  in  the  last  place  you  or  Dudley 
would  ever  look  for  them.  Oh,  you  needn't 
hold  me  any  more ;  I've  given  in ;  I'm  not  going 
to  meet  Dick  to-night.  But  I  had  to  tell  you 
about  his  gang,  if  I  can't  about  him.  And 
listen,  Mr.  Stretton.  I've  tried  every  possible 
way  to  get  it  out  of  him,  but  Dick  won't  even 
answer  when  I  taunt  him  for  a  coward  who 


156    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery- 
has  to  be  backed  up.    I  know  he  has  men 
somewhere,  but  he  won't  tell  me  where  they 

are,  or  who  they  are — now.     I  believe " 

but  her  voice  changed  sharply.  "  Those  two 
boys,  Dunn  and  Collins!  You  don't  think 
Dudley  can  be  right  and  they  are  still  alive— 
and  have  joined  Dick's  gang?  " 

"  They're  dead! "  I  was  about  sick  of  Dunn 
and  Collins,  and  anyhow  I  was  wondering 
where  the  devil  Hutton's  gang  could  have  gone 
after  their  fiasco  in  the  swamp.  ;<  They  may 
have  meant  to  join  Hutton.  But  I  found 
what  the  wolves  left — and  that  was  dead,  right 
enough! " 

"  I  don't  believe  they're  dead,"  said  Paul- 
ette  quietly. 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders.  But  I  never  even 
asked  her  why.  For  suddenly — with  that  flat 
knowledge  you  get  when  you  realize  you  should 
have  put  two  and  two  together  long  ago — I 
knew  where  Hutton's  gang  was  now  and  al- 
ways had  been.  "  Skunk's  Misery,"  I  thought 
dumbfounded.  "  By  gad,  Skunk's  Misery !  " 
For  the  thing  I  should  have  added  to  the 
Skunk's  Misery  wolf  dope  was  my  dream  of 
nen  talking  and  playing  cards  under  the  very 
floor  where  I  slept  in  the  new  hut  the  French- 
\voman's  son  had  built  and  gone  away  from, — 
because  it  had  been  no  dream  at  all.  I  had 
actually  heard  real  men  under  the  bare  lean-to 


Macartney  Hears  a  Noise      157 

where  I  lay;  and  knowing  the  burrows  and 
runways  under  the  Skunk's  Misery  houses,  I 
knew  \vh«  re — and  that  was  just  in  some  hidden 
den  under  the  rocks  the  n3w  house  had  been 
built  on — that  house  left  with  the  door  open, 
ostentatiously,  for  all  the  world  to  see ! 

I  was  blazing,  as  you  always  are  blazing 
when  you  have  been  a  fool.  But  I  could  start 
for  Skunk's  Misery  the  first  thing  in  the  morn- 
ing and  start  alone,  with  my  mouth  shut. 
None  of  our  four  old  men  could  be  spared  from 
the  mill,  and  I  had  no  use  for  any  of  Macart- 
ney's new  ones;  or  for  Macartney  either,  for 
he  was  no  good  in  the  bush.  As  for  Dudley, 
nerves  and  a  loose  tongue  would  do  him  less 
harm  at  home.  Besides,  any  ticklish  job  is 
a  one-man  job  and  I  was  best  alone:  once  I 
got  hold  of  Hutton  there  would  be  no  trouble 
with  his  followers.  But  I  had  no  intention  of 
mentioning  Skunk's  Misery  to  the  girl  beside 
me;  she  was  as  capable  of  following  me  there 
as  of  fighting  wolves  for  me,  and  with  no  more 
reason. 

"  It's  late,  and  neither  you  nor  I  are  going 
to  meet  Hutton  to-night,"  I  said  rather  cheer- 
lessly. '  You'd  better  go  to  bed." 

"  I  want  to  say  something  first,"  slowly,  as 
if  she  had  been  thinking.  '  What  Macartney 
said  to-night — that  I  was  engaged  to  Dick 
Hutton  when  Mr.  Van  Ruyne  said  I  took  those 


158    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

emeralds — wasn't  true!  I  never  was  engaged 
to  Dick.  I  was  sorry  for  him  once,  because 
I  knew  he  did — care  for  me.  But  I  always 
hated  him — I  can't  tell  you  how  I  hated  him! 
I  didn't  think  I  could  ever  love  any  man  till — 
just  lately." 

It  made  me  sick  to  know  she  meant  Dudley. 
I  would  have  blurted  out  that  shrinking  from 
the  mere  touch  of  his  hand  was  a  queer  way  to 
show  it;  only  I  was  afraid  to  speak  at  all,  for 
fear  I  begged  her  for  God's  sake  not  to  speak 
of  love  and  Dudley  to  me!  And  suddenly 
something  banged  even  that  out  of  my  head. 
"  Listen,"  I  heard  my  own  whisper.  "  Some- 
body's awake — walking  round !  " 

It  was  only  the  faintest  noise,  more  like  a 
rustle  than  a  footstep,  but  it  sounded  like 
Gabriel's  trumpet  to  a  man  alone  in  the  middle 
of  the  night  with  a  girl  he  had  no  shadow  of 
right  to.  If  it  were  Marcia, — but  I  knew  that 
second  it  was  not  Marcia,  or  even  Dudley; 
though  I  would  rather  have  had  his  just  fury 
than  Marcia's  evil  thoughts  and  tongue. 

"  By  gad,  it's  outside,"  I  breathed.  "  Look 
out ! "  But  suddenly  I  changed  my  mind  on 
it.  There  was  only  one  person  who  could  be 
outside,  and  that  was  Hutton,  sick  of  waiting 
for  Paulette  and  come  to  look  for  her.  I  had 
no  desire  for  her  to  see  how  I  met  him  instead, 
and  my  hands  found  her  shoulders  in  the  dark. 


Macartney  Hears  a  Noise      159 

"Get  back,  in  the  corner — and  don't  stir!" 
As  she  moved  under  my  hands  the  faint  sweet 
scent  of  her  hair  made  me  catch  my  breath  with 
a  sort  of  fierce  elation.  The  gold  and  silk  of 
it  were  not  for  me,  I  knew  well  enough,  but  at 
least  I  could  keep  Hutton's  hands  off  it.  I 
slipped  to  the  side  of  the  window  and  stared 
out  into  the  dark  shadow  of  the  house,  that  lay 
black  and  square  in  the  white  moonlight.  On 
the  edge  of  it  was  a  man — and  the  silly  elation 
left  my  heart  as  the  gas  leaves  a  toy  balloon 
when  you  stick  a  pin  in  it.  It  was  not  Hutton 
outside.  It  was — for  the  second  time  that 
night — only  Macartney! 

I  stood  and  stared  at  him  like  a  fool.  It 
was  a  good  half  minute  before  I  even  won- 
dered what  had  brought  Macartney  out  of  his 
bed  in  the  assay  office.  I  watched  him  stupidly, 
and  he  moved;  hesitated;  and  then  turned  to 
the  house  door.  My  heart  gave  a  jump  Hut- 
ton  never  could  have  brought  there.  Macart- 
ney in  the  house  with  a  light,  coming  into  the 
office  for  something,  for  all  I  knew,  and  find- 
ing Paulette  and  me,  would  be  merely  a  living 
telephone  to  Marcia!  I  tapped  at  the  office 
window. 

Macartney  had  good  ears,  I  praised  the 
Lord.  He  turned,  not  startled,  but  looking 
round  him  searchingly,  and  I  stuck  my  head 
out  of  the  hinged  pane  of  the  double  window, 


160    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

thanking  the  Lord  again  that  I  had  not  to 
shove  up  a  squeaking  inside  sash.  '  What's 
brought  you  back  again? "  I  kept  my  voice 
down,  remembering  Marcia.  "  Anything  gone 
wrong? " 

"  What?  "  said  Macartney  rather  sharply. 
He  came  close  and  stared  at  me.  "Oh,  it's  you, 
Stretton?  I  thought  it  was  Wilbraham,  and 
he  wouldn't  be  any  good.  It  was  you  I 
wanted.  I've  got  a  feeling  there's  some  one 
hanging  round  outside  here." 

I  hoped  to  heaven  he  had  not  seen  Hutton, 
waiting  for  an  appointment  a  girl  was  not 
going  to  keep,  and  I  half  lied:  "I  haven't 
seen  any  one.  D'ye  mean  you  thought  you 
did? " 

Macartney  nodded.  "  Couldn't  swear  to  it, 
but  I  thought  so.  And  I'd  too  much  gold  in 
my  safe  to  go  to  bed;  I  cleaned  up  this  after- 
noon. I  was  certain  I  glimpsed  a  strange  man 
slipping  behind  the  bunk  house  when  I  went 
down  an  hour  ago,  and  I've  been  hunting  him 
ever  since.  I  half  thought  I  saw  him  again 
just  now.  But,  if  I  did,  he's  gone !  " 

"I'll  come  out!" 

But  Macartney  shook  his  head  sententiously. 
"  I'm  enough.  I've  guns  for  the  four  mill  men 
who  sleep  in  the  shack  off  the  assay  office,  and 
you've  a  whack  of  gold  in  that  room  you're 
standing  in;  you'd  better  not  leave  it.  Though 


Macartney  Hears  a  Noise      161 

I  don't  believe  there's  any  real  need  for  either 
of  us  to  worry:  if  there  was  any  one  around 
I've  scared  him.  I  only  thought  I'd  better 
come  up  and  warn  you  I'd  seen  some  one. 
'Night,"  and  he  was  gone. 

I  had  a  sudden  idea  that  he  might  be  a  better 
man  in  the  woods  than  I  had  thought  he  was, 
for  he  slid  out  of  the  house  shadow  into  the 
bush  without  ever  showing  up  in  the  moon- 
light. And  as  I  thought  it  I  felt  Paulette 
clutch  me,  shivering  from  head  to  foot.  It 
shocked  me,  somehow.  I  put  my  arm  straight 
around  her,  like  you  do  around  a  child,  and 
spoke  deliberately,  "  Steady,  sweet,  steady! 
It's  all  right.  Hutton's  gone  by  now.  Any- 
how, Macartney  and  I'll  take  care  of  you!  " 

"  Oh,  my  heavens,"  said  Paulette:  it  sounded 
half  as  if  she  were  sick  with  despair,  and  half 
as  if  I  were  hopelessly  stupid.  "  Take  care  of 
me — you  can't  take  care  of  me!  You  should 
have  let  me  go.  It's  too  late  now."  She 
pushed  my  arm  from  her  as  if  she  hated  me 
and  was  gone  down  the  passage  to  her  room 
before  I  could  speak. 

I  shut  the  office  window,  with  the  inside  sash 
down  this  time,  and  took  a  scout  around  out- 
side. But  Macartney  was  right;  if  any  one 
had  been  waiting  about  he  was  gone.  I  could 
not  find  hide  or  hoof  of  him  anywhere,  and  the 
moon  went  down,  and  I  went  in  and  went  to 


162    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery- 
bed.     In  two  minutes  I  must  have  been  asleep 
like  a  log, — and  the  first  way  I  knew  it  was 
that  I  found  myself  out  of  bed,  dragging  on 
my  clothes  and  grabbing  up  my  gun. 

Whatever  the  row  was  about  it  was  in  the 
assay  office.  I  heard  Macartney  yell  my  name 
through  a  volley  of  shots  and  knew  we  had 
both  been  made  fools  of.  I  had  stopped  Paul- 
ette  meeting  Hutton,  and  Hutton  had  dropped 
on  Macartney  and  the  assay  office  gold!  I 
shook  Dudley  till  he  sat  up,  sober  as  I  never 
could  have  been  in  his  shoes,  saw  him  light 
out  in  his  pyjamas  to  keep  guard  in  his  own 
office  that  Paulette  and  I  had  only  just  left, 
and  legged  it  for  the  assay  office  and  Macart- 
ney. 

I  didn't  see  a  soul  on  the  way,  except  the 
men  who  were  piling  out  of  the  bunk  house  at 
the  sound  of  a  row,  as  I  had  piled  out  of  bed; 
and  I  thought  Macartney  had  raised  a  false 
alarm.  But  inside  his  office  door  I  knew  bet- 
ter. The  four  mill  men  who  slept  in  the  shack 
just  off  it  were  all  on  the  office  floor,  dead,  or 
next  door  to  it.  Their  guns  were  on  the  floor 
too,  and  Macartney  stood  towering  over  the 
mess. 

"  Get  those  staring  bunk-house  fools  out  of 
here,"  he  howled,  as  the  men  crowded  in  after 
me.  "  I  haven't  lost  any  gold,  only  somebody 
tried  to  raid  me.  Why  didn't  you  come 


Macartney  Hears  a  Noise      163 

and  cut  them  off  when   I  yelled  for  you? 
They — they  got  away !  " 

And  suddenly,  before  I  even  saw  he  was 
swaying,  he  keeled  over  on  the  floor. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THOMPSON'S  CARDS:    AND  SKUNK'S 
MISERY 

FOR  that  second  I  thought  Macartney  was 
dead.  But  as  I  jumped  to  him  I  saw  he  had 
only  fainted,  and  that  nothing  ailed  him  but  a 
bullet  that  had  glanced  off  his  upper  arm  and 
left  more  of  a  gouge  than  a  wound.  Why  it 
made  him  faint  I  couldn't  see,  but  it  had.  I 
left  him  where  he  had  dropped  and  turned  to 
the  four  men  he  had  been  standing  over.  But 
they  were  past  helping.  They  were  decent 
men  too,  for  they  were  the  last  of  our  own 
lot, — and  it  smote  me  like  a  hammer  that  they 
might  have  been  alive  still  if  I  had  not  inter- 
fered with  Paulette  that  night  and  kept  her 
from  meeting  Hutton. 

I  knew  as  I  knew  there  was  a  roof  over  my 
head  that  it  was  he  who  had  fallen  on  Macart- 
ney, and  I  would  have  chased  straight  after 
him  if  common  sense  had  not  told  me  he  would 
be  lying  up  in  the  bush  for  just  that,  and  all  I 
should  get  for  my  pains  would  be  a  bullet  out 
of  the  dark  that  would  end  all  chance  of  me 


Thompson's  Cards  165 

personally  ever  catching  Hutton.  I  took 
stock  of  things  where  I  stood,  instead. 
Whether  he  had  a  gang  or  not,  I  knew  he  had 
been  alone  in  the  thing  to-night,  and  he  had 
done  a  capable  job.  Our  four  men  had  been 
surprised,  for  they  were  all  shot  in  the  back, 
as  if  they  had  been  caught  coming  in  the  office 
door. 

Whether  Macartney  had  been  surprised  or 
not  I  could  not  tell.  The  revolver  he  had 
dropped  as  he  fainted  lay  beside  him  empty, 
and  there  were  slivers  out  of  the  doorpost  be- 
hind the  dead  men.  None  of  them  seemed  to 
have  been  much  help  to  him.  Three  had  not 
fired  a  shot;  the  fourth  had  just  one  cartridge 
missing  from  his  revolver,  where  he  lay  with 
his  face  to  the  door — and  I  saw  it  accounted  for 
by  a  tearing  slash  in  a  blue  print  stuck  on  the 
wall  to  the  left  of  the  doorway.  I  turned  to 
the  inside  wall  to  see  where  the  bullet  that  had 
glanced  off  Macartney  had  landed,  and  as  I 
swung  round  he  sat  up. 

'  You  may  well  look — it  was  one  of  our 
own  men  got  me,"  he  said  thickly,  and  his  curse 
turned  my  stomach;  I  never  knew  any  good 
come  of  cursing  the  dead.  I  told  him  to  shut 
up  and  tell  how  the  thing  had  happened.  And 
he  grinned  with  sheer  rage. 

"  It  was  plain  damn  foolery !  I  told  you  I 
believed  I'd  seen  some  one  spying  around  the 


i66    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

mine,  and  after  I'd  left  you  I  didn't  feel  so 
sure  that  I'd  cleared  him  out.  I  woke  those 
fools  up,"  his  glance  at  the  dead  matched  his 
curse  at  them,  "  and  said  if  they  heard  any  one 
prowling  round  my  door  they  were  to  lie  low 
in  their  own  shack,  let  him  get  in  at  me  here, 
and  then  bundle  out  and  cut  him  off  from 
behind.  And  what  they  did  was  to  lose  their 
heads.  They  heard  some  one  or  they  didn't — I 
don't  know.  But  the  crazy  fools  piled  out  of 
their  shack  and  ran  in  to  me;  and  a  man  be- 
hind them — behind  them,  mind  you — came  on 
their  heels  and  plugged  every  son  of  them  be- 
fore they  were  more  than  inside  my  door!  It 
was  then  I  yelled  for  you." 

"  D'ye  mean  you  saw  him — when  he  shot 
them? " 

"  I  didn't  see  what  he  looked  like,"  scorn- 
fully, "  with  four  yelling,  tumbling  men  be- 
tween him  and  me.  But  I  guess  he  was  the 
man  I'd  been  looking  for.  I  fired  and  missed 
him,  and  when  I  lit  for  him  over  the  men  he'd 
killed  he  was  gone.  I  emptied  my  gun  into 
the  dark  on  chance  and  yelled  some  more  for 
you,  and  it  was  then  I  got  it  myself.  As  I 
turned  around  in  the  doorway,  Sullivan,"  he 
pointed  to  the  only  man  whose  gun  had  been 
fired,  "  that  I  thought  was  dead,  sat  up  and  let 
me  have  it  in  the  arm."  He  pointed  to  the 
ripped  blue  print.  "  You  see  what  I'd  have 


Thompson's  Cards  167 

got  if  it  Had  caught  me  straight !    And  that's 
all  there  was  to  it." 

"  D'ye  mean  " — I  bit  back  Hutton's  name. 
I  had  no  time  to  hatch  up  a  lie  about  him,  and 
I  was  not  going  to  drag  in  Paulette — "  that — 
whoever  was  there,  never  even  fired  at  you? " 

"  How  do  I  know  who  he  fired  at? — I 
couldn't  see  inside  of  his  head !  I  know  he  hit 
those  chumps  who  could  have  got  him  if  they 
had  obeyed  orders — let  alone  that  if  they'd 
stayed  out  I'd  have  got  him  clean  myself  when 
he  came  in.  As  it  was,  he  cleared  out  before 
I  could  do  it,"  said  Macartney  blackly,  but  the 
excitement  had  gone  from  his  voice.  "  Call  a 
couple  of  the  bunk-house  men  to  carry  these 
four  back  to  their  shack  and  clean  up  this  mess, 
will  you?  And  come  into  my  room  while  I 
tie  up  this  cut.  It's  no  good  going  after  who- 
ever was  here  now." 

I  knew  that:  also  that  I  could  get  after  him 
better  single-handed  at  Skunk's  Misery,  where 
he  would  not  expect  me ;  or  I  would  have  been 
gone  already.  But  I  didn't  air  that  to  Macart- 
ney as  I  followed  him  into  the  partitioned-off 
corner  he  called  his  room.  He  had  the  last 
two  clean-ups  in  his  safe  there,  and  he  nodded 
to  it  as  he  hauled  off  his  shirt  for  me  to  bind 
up  his  arm. 

'  With  what's  there,  and  what  you  and  Wil- 
braham  have  in  his  office,   we've  too  much 


i68    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

around  to  be  healthy,"  he  observed  succinctly, 
"  and  I  guess  some  one's  got  wind  of  it.  I  don't 
know  that  it'll  be  any  healthier  for  you  to  try 
running  it  out  to  Caraquet  and  get  held  up  on 
the  road!  But  I  suppose  it's  got  to  go." 

I  nodded.  I  knew  it  was  hand  to  mouth 
with  Dudley :  he  had  no  cash  to  call  on  but  the 
mine  output,  and  immediate  payments  had  to 
be  made  on  the  machinery  we  were  using. 
But  I  was  not  excited  about  being  held  up  on 
the  Caraquet  road, — after  I'd  once  been  to 
Skunk's  Misery.  I  was  not  red-hot  about 
hurrying  there,  either;  I  wanted  to  give  Hut- 
ton  time  to  get  back  to  his  lair  and  feel  easy 
about  pursuit  after  his  abortive  raid.  "  I  ex- 
pect we'll  worry  along,"  I  said  idly.  "  Gimme 
that  clean  rag  for  your  arm !  " 

But  Macartney  cast  down  the  handkerchief 
in  his  hand.  "This  fool  thing's  too  short! 
Open  that  box,  will  you?  There's  a  roll  of 
bandage  just  inside." 

There  was.  But  there  was  something  else 
just  inside,  too.  I  stared  at  a  worn  leather 
case,  that  pretended  to  be  a  prayer-book  with 
a  brass  clasp  and  tarnished  gilt  edges,  a  case  I 
had  seen  too  often  to  make  any  mistake  about. 
;<  By  gad,"  I  cried  blankly.  "  Why,  you've 
got  old  Thompson's  cards !  " 

Macartney  was  poking  at  his  wounded  arm, 
and  he  winced.  "Hurry  up,  will  you?  I 


Thompson's  Cards  169 

can't  stop  this  silly  blood.  Of  course  I  have 
Thompson's  cards ;  I  can't  help  it  if  you  think 
I'm  an  ass.  I  liked  the  old  man,  and  I  didn't 
fancy  the  Billy  Joneses  playing  cribbage  with 
the  only  thing  in  the  world  he  cared  for.  I 
took  the  cards  the  day  we  buried  him — saw 
them  lying  in  the  kitchen." 

"  I  expect  you  needn't  have  worried  about 
Billy,"  I  commented  absently.  "  He  was  go- 
ing to  give  those  cards  to  me,  only  he  and  I 
couldn't  find  them." 

"  Do  come  on,"  snapped  Macartney.  He 
was  set-eyed  as  usual,  but  I  guessed  he  was 
ashamed  to  have  had  me  find  him  out  in  a  sen- 
timental weakness.  "  I'd  have  told  you  I  had 
them  if  I'd  known  you  cared.  You  can  take 
the  things  now,  if  you  want  them." 

It  was  not  till  that  minute  that  I  remem- 
bered Macartney  could  not  know  why  I 
wanted  them,  nor  anything  about  the  sort  of 
codi  M  I'd  torn  off  the  envelope  of  Thompson's 
letter  to  Dudley:  for  there  had  been  nothing 
about  cards  in  what  he'd  read  in  it,  or  in  the 
letter  itself.  But  as  the  remembrance  of  both 
things  shot  up  in  me,  I  didn't  confide  them  to 
Macartney,  any  more  than  I  had  to  Dudley 
himself.  I  had  a  queer  sort  of  idea  that  if 
Thompson's  pencilled  scrawl  had  meant  any- 
thing more  than  the  wanderings  of  a  distressed 
mind,  I'd  better  get  hold  of  it  myself  first.  I 


170    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

said:  "  All  right,"  and  pocketed  Thompson's 
cards.  Then  I  did  up  Macartney's  arm,  and 
the  two  of  us  went  up  the  road  to  Dudley. 
He  and  his  dry  nurse,  Baker,  who'd  promptly 
arrived  from  the  bunk  house,  stumped  straight 
back  to  the  assay  office  with  Macartney  to  fuss 
over  the  men  who'd  been  killed.  I  was  mak- 
ing for  my  own  room,  to  see  if  Thompson's 
resurrected  cards  would  shed  any  light  on  his 
crazy  scrawls,  when  I  heard  a  poker  drop  in  the 
living  room.  Somebody  was  in  there,  raking 
up  the  fire. 

Charliet  had  gone  after  Macartney,  with 
Dudley  and  Baker.  I  guessed  Paulette  had 
got  up  and  was  trying  to  start  the  fire, — for 
she  was  always  working  to  keep  things  com- 
fortable— if  I  haven't  mentioned  it — even  for 
me.  I  once  caught  her  darning  my  rags  of 
socks  and  crying  over  them — the  Lord  knew 
why!  I  went  in  to  stop  her  now — and  it  was 
I  who  stopped  dead  in  the  doorway.  It  was 
not  Paulette  inside:  it  was  Marcia!  Marcia 
in  a  velvet  dressing  gown,  poking  the  ashes  all 
over  the  hearth.  I  could  have  sworn  I  had 
seen  Paulette  burn  the  letter  she  had  signed 
with  Tatiana  Paulina  Valenka's  name,  but  all 
the  same  the  look  of  Marcia's  back  turned  me 
sick.  And  her  face  turned  me  sicker  as  she 
flung  around  on  me,  with  her  fingers  all 
ashes, — and  Paulette's  letter  in  her  hand! 


I  kept  back  a  curse  at  the  raw  fool  that  was 
me.  I  might  have  seen  it  was  not  a  tightly 
folded  wad  of  stiff  paper  I  had  watched  burn 
up,  but  just  the  light  torn  scraps  Paulette  had 
thrown  in  with  it.  What  was  more,  I  had  been 
alone  with  the  thing  under  my  very  nose  in  the 
light  ashes  into  which  it  must  have  sunk  and 
never  had  the  sense  to  burrow  for  it.  It  was 
too  late  even  to  snatch  for  it:  Marcia  had  read 
it!  She  held  it  up  to  me  now, — and  Tatiana 
Paulina  Valenka,  black  on  the  yellow  of  the 
scorched  paper,  hit  me  on  the  eyes. 

"  Who  was  right,  Nicky  Stretton? "  she  de- 
manded triumphantly.  "  I  told  you  I'd  seen 
Paulette  Brown  before !  Only  I  never  thought 
of  the  Houston  business.  I  could  kill  Dud- 
ley; how  dare  he  bring  me  out  here  with  a 
thief !  I  won't  have  her  here  another  day." 

"  What  thief? "  I  snapped.  "  I  don't  know 
what  you  mean!  Why  on  earth  are  you 
poking  in  the  ashes?  What  are  you  up  for?  " 

"  Only  a  Paulette  Brown  could  stay  asleep, 
with  Dudley  yelling  at  you  and  Macartney," 
scornfully.  "  But  if  you  want  to  know  what 
I  was  poking  in  the  ashes  for,  I  had  no 
matches,  and  my  fire  was  out,  so  I  came  in 
here  for  a  log  to  light  it  up.  And  I  found 
this!" 

"  Well,  burn  it,"  said  I  furiously.  But  she 
had  begun  to  read  i1  out,  and  I  would  have 


172    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

been  a  fool  to  stop  her,  for  what  Marcia  knew 
I  had  to  know.  But  it  knocked  me  silly.  The 
something  Paulette  had  "  wanted  to  make 
clear  "  was  just  a  letter  to  Hutton!  And  the 
Lord  knows  it  made  me  more  set  than  ever  on 
getting  to  Skunk's  Misery  before  Hutton 
could  know  that  Tatiana  Paulina  Valenka  had 
given  in!  Because  she  had.  She  was  not 
only  going  to  meet  him;  she  was  going  away 
with  him,  Marcia's  hard  voice  read  out  baldly, 
if  only  he  would  give  up  the  plan  in  his  head. 
But  it  was  the  last  sentence  that  bit  into  me: 

"  Oh,  Dick,  have  some  mercy!  I  know  you 
hate  me  now,  but  have  some  mercy;  don't  do 
what  I'm  afraid  of.  I'll  give  you  all  you  want 
— myself — everything — if  only  you'll  let  that 
be.  Go  away,  as  I  begged  you,  and  I'll  leave 
Dudley  for  you,  and  go  too."  And  it  was 
signed,  as  I  knew  Paulette  Brown  had  not 
meant  to  sign  anything,  "  Tatiana  Paulina  Va- 
lenka." 

I  never  even  wondered  how  she  had  meant 
to  get  it  to  Hutton,  if  she  had  not  supposed  she 
burned  it.  Every  drop  of  my  blood  boiled  in 
me  with  the  determination  that  she  should 
never  pay  Hutton's  price  with  her  lips  against 
his  that  she  hated,  and  his  cheek  on  her  soft 
hair  I  had  never  touched;  all  the  gold  Dudley 
Wilbraham  could  ever  mine  was  not  worth 
that.  But  I  kept  a  cold  eye  on  Marcia.  "  A 


Thompson's  Cards  173 

half-burnt  letter — that  wasn't  going  to  be  sent 
— isn't  anything  but  girl's  nonsense,"  I  swore 
contemptuously. 

"  Isn't  it?  We'll  see — when  Dudley  reads 
it ! "  Marcia  looked  like  a  devil  hunched  up 
in  her  dressing  gown,  with  her  gums  showing 
as  she  grinned.  "  I  told  you  she  never  meant 
to  marry  him.  Now  we'll  see  if  he  marries 
her — when  she  writes  letters  like  this !  " 

"  I  won't  let  you  show  it  to  Dudley! " 

*  You  are  like — everybody :  cracked  about  a 
Paulette  Brown ! "  Marcia  retorted ;  and  if  I 
had  only  known  what  the  "  everybody  "  was 
going  to  mean  I  think  I  could  have  managed 
her,  even  then,  by  coming  out  with  it.  But  I 
didn't  know,  and  I  did  the  best  I  could. 

"  Marcia  Wilbraham,  if  you  dare  to  show 
that  thing  to  Dudley,  or  so  much  as  speak  of  it, 
I'll  pay  you  out, — so  help  me,"  I  said ;  and  if  it 
was  in  a  voice  no  decent  woman  knows  a  man 
can  use,  I  meant  it  to  be.  It  scared  Marcia, 
anyhow,  though  heaven  knew  I  didn't  see  how 
I  could  ever  pay  her  out,  no  matter  what  she 
did.  She  let  go  of  the  letter,  which  she  had  to, 
for  I  had  her  by  the  wrist.  I  would  have 
burnt  it  up,  only  I  had  no  match.  Marcia 
leaned  forward  suddenly,  electrically,  and 
tapped  the  "  Oh,  Dick  "  in  the  last  sentence, 
that  was  the  only  name  in  the  letter. 

"  Well,    I'm    damned,"    said    she    coolly. 


174    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

"Why,  the  thing's  to  you!  Do  you  mean 
you're  going  to  run  away  with  that — that 
girl?" 

"  No,"  I  said  furiously  and  then  saw  I  was 
an  ass,  "  I  mean,  not  now ! " 

"  Since  I  know  about  you,"  Marcia  cut  me 
off  sweetly.  But  she  stared  at  me  calculat- 
ingly.  "  H-m,"  said  she,  "  I  beg  your  par- 
don for  mistaking  your  N  for  a  big,  big  D, 
Nicky  darling,  but  you  see  I  never  heard 
any  one  call  you  plain,  short  Nick!  I  don't 
exactly  see  why  she  had  to  write  with  you  in 
the  house,  either,  but  you  needn't  be  nervous. 
I'm  not  going  to  use  my  cinch  on  you — not 
now,  anyway!  I've  changed  my  mind  about 
telling  Dudley.  It  won't  do  me  any  harm  to 
keep  something  up  my  sleeve  against  you,  if 
ever  I  want  to  do  anything  you  don't  admire. 
It  wasn't  the  least  bit  of  use  for  you  to  snatch 
that  letter;  I  learned  it  off  by  heart  before  you 
came  in  on  me.  And  I  can  always  threaten 
Dudley  now  that  I'll  tell  who  Paulette  Brown 
really  is,  if  he  tries  to  bully  me  about  any  one 
I  have  a  fancy  for!  " 

Of  course  I  knew  she  was  thinking  of  Ma- 
cartney. I  didn't  believe  Dudley  would  have 
cared  if  she  had  married  him  ten  times  over. 
But  he  might  have  been  making  some  unrea- 
sonable objection  to  Macartney,  at  that,  for  all 
I  knew. 


Thompson's  Cards  175 

"  I  don't  care  one  straw  about  your  knowing 
I  was  going  to  take  Paulette  Brown  out  of 
this.  But  if  you  don't  hold  your  tongue  on  it, 
I'll  know  it,  so  you  mind  that,"  I  observed  with 
some  heat.  Yet  I  was  easier.  She  could  not 
talk  that  night,  anyhow,  and  she  was  welcome 
to  come  out  with  her  crazy  lie  about  Paulette 
and  myself,  once  Hutton  was  dead, — because 
he  and  a  snake  would  be  all  one  to  me,  once  I 
got  my  hands  on  him.  After  that  I  had  no 
qualms  about  being  able  to  make  Dudley  see 
the  truth  concerning  that  letter,  and  that  it  had 
been  written  to  save  his  gold, — and  his  life, 
likely  enough!  I  let  Marcia  believe  the  name 
in  the  letter  was  mine,  and  that  Paulette  had 
been  going  off  with  me.  All  I  wished  was  that 
she  had  been.  I  went  off  to  my  room  and  left 
Marcia  sitting  over  the  dead  fire, — not  so  tri- 
umphant as  she'd  meant  to  be,  for  all  the  good 
face  she  put  on  it. 

Paulette's  letter  had  pretty  well  knocked  out 
all  the  interest  I  had  in  old  Thompson's  cards, 
but  I  got  out  the  torn  scrap  of  paper  I'd  put 
away.  There  was  nothing  on  it  but  what  I'd 
read  before:  "  For  God's  sake  search  my 
cards — my  cards! "  —and  it  looked  crazier 
than  ever  with  the  things  in  my  hand.  The 
cards  had  been  water-soaked  and  were  bumpy 
and  blistery  where  Billy  Jones  had  dried  them, 
even  though  they  were  flattened  out  again  by 


176    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

the  pressure  of  their  tight  case;  but  there  was 
nothing  to  them,  except  that  they  were  old 
Thompson's  beyond  a  doubt.  If  I  had  thought 
there  might  be  writing  on  them  there  was  not 
so  much  as  the  scratch  of  a  pencil.  There 
seemed  to  be  a  card  missing.  I  thought  it  was 
the  deuce  of  hearts;  but  I  was  too  sick  over 
Marcia's  discovery  about  Paulette  to  really 
examine  the  things  and  make  sure.  I  shoved 
them  into  my  coat  pocket  beside  what  was 
there  already,  just  as  Dudley  came  into  my 
room. 

He  had  enough  to  worry  him  without  hear- 
ing that  Marcia  had  found  out  about  Paulette. 
He  sat  on  my  bed,  biting  his  nails ;  and  said — 
what  Macartney  had  said — that  we  had  too 
much  gold  at  La  Chance  to  run  the  risk  of  los- 
ing it  by  a  better  organized  raid  on  it:  and— 
what  I  had  known  for  myself — that  the  mine 
output  represented  his  only  ready  money  for 
notes  that  were  past  renewing,  and  that  it  had 
to  go  out  to  Caraquet.  When  I  said  why  not, 
he  bit  his  nails  some  more,  and  said  he  was 
afraid  of  a  hold-up :  what  he  wanted  me  to  do 
was  to  ride  over  to  the  Halfway  and  scout 
around  from  there  to  clear  the  Caraquet  road, 
before  I  started  out  from  La  Chance  with  an 
ounce  of  gold. 

The  idea  suited  me  well  enough.  It  would 
cover  my  expedition  to  gjkunk's  Misery.  But 


Thompson's  Cards  177 

I  did  not  mention  that,  or  Hutton,  to  Dudley ; 
and  never  guessed  I  was  a  criminal  fool!  I 
did  not  mean  to  waste  any  time  in  scouting 
around  the  road,  either,  when  I  knew  just 
where  my  man  would  be  sitting,  with  the  half 
dozen  wastrels  he  had  probably  scraped  up. 
But  first  I  wanted  five  minutes,  even  two  min- 
utes, with  Paulette,  to  warn  her  of  what 
Marcia  knew.  So  I  said  the  afternoon  would 
be  time  enough  to  start. 

But  Dudley  would  not  hear  of  it  and  blazed 
out  till  I  had  to  give  up  all  idea  of  warning 
Paulette,  and  get  out.  And  as  I  rode  away 
from  La  Chance  the  last  person  I  saw  was 
Macartney,  though  I  might  not  have  remem- 
bered it,  if  I  had  not  turned  my  head  after  I 
passed  and  caught  the  same  grin  on  his  face  he 
had  worn  there  the  night  his  own  man  shot  him. 
I  rode  back  and  asked  him  what  the  mischief  he 
was  grinning  at. 

"  Grinning — because  I'm  angry,"  Macart- 
ney returned  with  his  usual  set  stare.  "  I'd 
sooner  go  with  you  than  stay  here,  burying 
men  and  talking  to  Wilbraham.  I'm  sick  of 
La  Chance,  if  you'd  like  to  know.  I  came 
here  to  mine,  not  to  play  in  moving  pictures. 
But  I  guess  I've  got  to  stick,  unless  I  can 
hurry  up  my  job  here.  So  long — but  I  don't 
expect  you'll  see  anything  of  last  night's  man 
on  the  Caraquet  road!  " 


178    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

Neither  did  I,  nor  of  any  one  else.  But  I 
was  not  prepared  to  find  the  Halfway  stable 
empty,  when  I  rode  in  there  just  at  dark.  The 
house  was  as  deserted  as  the  stable,  though  the 
fire  was  alive  in  the  stove,  and  taking  both 
things  together,  I  decided  Billy  and  his  wife 
had  taken  a  four-horse  team  into  Caraquet  for 
a  load.  I  had  meant  to  borrow  one  of  his 
horses  to  go  on  to  Skunk's  Misery, — for  this 
time  I  intended  to  ride  there.  But  with  no 
horse  to  borrow,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to 
ride  my  own,  and  it  was  toward  ten  that  night 
when  I  left  him  to  wait  for  me  in  a  spruce 
thicket,  within  half  a  mile  of  the  porcupine 
burrows  that  Skunk's  Misery  called  houses. 

As  I  turned  away,  the  cold  bit  a  hundred 
times  worse  for  the  lack  of  snow  in  the  woods, 
and  the  bare  ground  made  the  pat  of  my  moc- 
casins sound  louder  than  I  liked;  but  on  the 
other  hand  I  should  leave  no  track  back  to  my 
waiting  horse,  if  I  had  to  clear  out  without  get- 
ting Hutton.  The  thought  made  me  grin,  for 
I  had  no  fear  of  it. 

Hutton  would  be  asleep,  judging  from  the 
look  of  things ;  for  as  I  got  fairly  into  Skunk's 
Misery,  it  lay  still  as  the  dead.  The  winding 
tracks  through  it  were  deserted;  silent  between 
and  under  the  great  rocks  and  boulders;  slip- 
pery in  the  open  with  droppings  from  the  pine 
trees  that  grew  in  and  on  the  masses  of  huddled 


Thompson's  Cards  179 

rocks.  The  wind  rose  a  little,  too,  and  soughed 
in  the  pine  branches,  to  die  wailing  among  the 
stones.  It  did  not  strike  me  as  a  cheerful 
wind  for  a  man  in  Hutton's  shoes,  for  it  cov- 
ered the  light  sound  of  my  feet  as  I  went  past 
the  hut  of  the  boy  I  had  nursed  and  through 
the  maze  of  tracks  his  mother  had  shown  me,  to 
the  new  log  lean-to  the  Frenchwoman's  son 
had  built  and  never  used.  But,  as  I  reached 
it,  I  was  suddenly  not  so  sure  Hutton  was 
there ! 

The  lean-to  looked  all  right.  The  door  was 
open,  just  as  I  had  left  it.  But,  as  I  crossed 
the  threshold,  I  knew  I  was  too  late,  and  there 
was  nobody  inside,  or  in  the  cave  underneath  it 
where  men  had  been  when  I  slept  there.  The 
place  had  that  empty  feeling  of  desertion,  or 
late  occupancy  and  a  cold  lair,  that  even  a 
worse  fool  than  I  could  not  mistake  now.  I 
shut  the  door  on  mysef  without  sound,  all  the 
same;  snapped  my  pocket  lantern;  and  stared, 
—at  just  what  I  had  known  I  was  going  to 
find. 

There  was  nothing  in  the  place  now  but  the 
bare  lean-to  walls  and  the  rock  they  backed  on ; 
but  twenty  men  had  been  living  there  since  I 
left  it.  The  black  mark  of  their  fire  was  plain 
against  the  rock  face ;  the  log  floor  was  splint- 
ered by  heavy  boots  with  nails  in  them — which 
did  not  speak  of  the  moccasined  return  of  the 


i8o    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

Frenchwoman's  son — and  in  the  place  where 
I  had  once  made  a  bed  of  pine  boughs  and  car- 
ried it  away  with  me  there  lay  a  flurry  of  litter 
that  spoke  volumes :  for  among  it  was  a  corned- 
beef  can  that  was  no  product  of  Skunk's  Mis- 
ery, where  meat  meant  squirrels  and  rabbits, 
and — a  corked  bottle  of  wolf  dope!  That  I 
laid  gingerly  aside  till  I  had  poked  around  in 
the  rest  of  the  mess,  but  there  was  not  much 
else  there  besides  kindling.  I  got  up  to  leg  it  for 
the  underground  cave,  blazing  that  I  had 
missed  Hutton  and  half  hoping  he  might  be 
there, — but  I  dropped  flump  on  my  knees 
again,  dumbfounded. 

Underneath  the  displaced  litter,  stuck  side- 
ways in  a  crack  of  the  log  floor,  was  a  shiny, 
dirty  white  playing  card.  I  pulled  it  out. 
And  in  the  narrow  white  beam  of  my  electric 
lantern  I  saw  the  missing  two  of  hearts  out  of 
Thompson's  pack ! 

I  saw  more,  too,  before  I  even  wondered 
how  one  of  Thompson's  cards  had  ever  got  to 
Skunk's  Misery.  The  deuce  of  hearts  was 
written  on — closely,  finely  and  legibly — with 
indelible  pencil.  And  as  I  read  the  short 
sentences,  word  by  word,  I  knew  Thompson 
had  never  got  to  Caraquet,  never  got  anywhere 
but  to  the  cave  under  the  very  lean-to  I  knelt 
in — till  he  had  been  brought  up  from  it,  here — 
to  be  taken  away  and  drowned  in  Lac  Trem- 


Thompson's  Cards  181 

blant,  as  a  decent  man  would  not  drown  a  dog ! 
And  I  knew — at  last — where  Hutton  and  his 
gang  were,  and  who  Hutton  was ! 

But  I  made  no  move  to  go  underground  to 
the  cave  to  look  for  them.  And  the  only  word 
that  came  to  my  tongue  was:  "Macartney!" 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A  DEAD  MAN'S  MESSENGER 

FOR  the  written  message  on  Thompson's  lost 
card  was  plain.  Macartney  was — Hutton! 
And  Button's  gang  were  just  the  new,  rough 
men  Macartney  had  dribbled  in  to  the  La 
Chance  mine! 

It  was  Macartney — our  capable,  hard-work- 
ing superintendent — for  whom  Paulette  had 
mistaken  me  in  the  dark,  that  first  night  I  came 
home  to  La  Chance  and  the  dream  girl,  who 
was  no  nearer  me  now  than  she  was  then ;  Ma- 
cartney from  whom  she  had  sealed  the  boxes  of 
gold,  to  prevent  him  substituting  others  and 
sending  me  off  to  Caraquet  with  worthless 
dummies ;  Macartney  I  had  heard  her  tell  her- 
self she  could  not  trust;  Macartney  who  had 
put  that  wolf  dope — that  there  was  no  longer 
any  doubt  he  had  brought  from  Skunk's  Mis- 
ery— in  my  wagon;  Macartney  who  had  had 
that  boulder  stuck  in  the  road  to  smash  my 
pole,  by  the  same  men  who  were  posted  by  the 
corduroy  road  through  the  swamp  to  cut  me 
off  there  if  the  wolves  and  the  broken  wagon 
failed ;  and  Macartney  who  had  been  balked  by 


A  Dead  Man's  Messenger      183 

a  girl  I  had  left  at  La  Chance  to  fight  him 
alone  now ! 

The  thing  seemed  to  jump  at  me  from  six 
places  at  once,  now  that  I  knew  enough  to  see 
it  was  there  at  all.  But  what  sickened  me  at 
my  own  utter  blindness  was  not  the  nerve  of 
the  man,  but  just  the  risk  he  had  let  Paulette 
run  on  the  Caraquet  road,  and — old  Thomp- 
son !  For  Thompson  had  never  sent  Macart- 
ney to  La  Chance,  and  Macartney  had  had  him 
murdered  in  cold  blood ! 

If  my  eyes  fogged  as  I  stared  at  the  dead 
man's  two  of  hearts,  it  was  only  half  with  fury. 
Old  Thompson  had  been  decent,  harmless, 
happy  with  his  unintelligent  work  and  his  sad 
solitaire, — and  he  had  been  through  seven  hells 
before  he  wrote  what  I  read  now : 

'  Wilbraham — Stretton — pray  God  one  of 
you  saw  all  I  could  put  inside  envelope  of  last 
letter  Macartney  forced  me  to  write.  I  never 
sent  him  to  La  Chance.  I  never  saw  the  man 
till  he  waylaid  me  between  Halfway  and  Cara- 
quet, and  brought  me  here.  Do  not  know 
where  it  is,  am  prisoner  underground;  Wrote 
you  two  letters  to  save  my  miserable  life ;  know 
now  I  have  not  saved  it.  Your  lives — gold — 
everything — in  danger  too.  For  any  sake  get 
Macartney  before  he  gets  you.  No  use  to  look 
for  me.  Tried  to  warn  you  inside  envelope, 
but  suppose  was  no  use.  Good-by.  Take 


184    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

care,  take  care!  There  was  a  boy  Macartney 
sent  off  with  my  horse  ;  was  kind  ;  said  he  would 
come  back.  When  he  does,  takes  this  to 
you  -  He  has  not  come.  Been  brought 
up  into  lean-to,  am  gagged,  feel  death  near. 
Forgive  treachery  —  life  was  dear  —  get  Ma- 


But  the  scrawl  broke  off  in  a  long  pencil 
line,  where  death  had  jerked  Thompson's  el- 
bow, and  his  card  had  fallen  from  his  hand. 

I  sat  on  the  floor  and  saw  the  thing.  Ma- 
cartney, hidden  in  Skunk's  Misery,  making 
plans  to  get  openly  and  with  decent  excuse  to 
La  Chance,  had  fallen  on  Thompson  and  used 
him.  And  for  Thompson,  writing  lying  letters 
in  Skunk's  Misery  in  fear  of  the  death  that  had 
come  to  him  in  the  end,  there  had  been  no  res- 
cue. His  scribbled  envelope,  even  if  Dudley 
or  I  had  understood  it,  had  come  too  late.  The 
boy  who  took  his  horse  to  Billy  —  whoever  he 
was  —  had  never  come  back.  Thompson  had 
not  even  had  time,  in  the  end,  to  slip  his  writ- 
ten-over  card  into  the  cased  pack  I  had  found 
in  his  almost  empty  pockets,  before  Macart- 
ney's men  —  for  of  course  Macartney  himself 
had  never  been  near  the  place  since  he  got  his 
wolf  dope  there  and  left  it  for  good  —  had 
taken  him  off  and  made  away  with  him.  Once 
his  last  letter  was  written  and  posted  under 


A  Dead  Man's  Messenger      185 

cover  from  Caraquet  to  be  reposted  to  Dudley 
from  Montreal  by  some  unknown  hand,  Ma- 
cartney had  no  more  use  for  Thompson,  and  a 
screen  against  betrayal  on  two  sides:  either  by 
his  own  men,  or  that  chance  finding  of  Thomp- 
son's body  that  had  actually  happened;  for 
Thompson's  own  letter  would  clear  his  mur- 
derer. 

As  for  Thompson's  envelope!  It's  an  easy 
enough  thing  to  do  if  you  just  slip  your  pencil 
inside  an  envelope  and  write  blindly,  but  it 
made  me  sick  to  think  of  poor  old  Thompson 
scrawling  in  the  inside  of  his  envelope,  furi- 
ously, furtively,  while  the  ink  of  his  neat  cop- 
perplate dried  on  the  outside,  and  Macartney 
likely  stood  by  poring  over  the  actual  letter, 
wondering  if  there  was  any  flaw  in  it  that  could 
show  out  and  damn  him.  And  the  desperate 
scrawl  in  the  envelope  had  been  no  good, 
thanks  to  the  fool  brain  and  tongue  of  myself, 
Nicky  Stretton!  It  had  done  more  to  warn 
Macartney  than  either  Dudley  or  me,  since  if 
Thompson  had  written  in  the  reverse  of  the 
envelope  he  was  also  likely  to  have  written  on 
anything  that  would  take  a  pencil. 

It  was  no  wonder  Macartney  had  stood 
stunned  over  that  envelope,  till  Dudley  and  I 
believed  him  heartsick  for  his  friend,  for  it 
must  have  been  then  that  he  remembered 
Thompson's  cards, — that  I  guessed  the  old 


186    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

man  had  just  sat  and  played  with,  day  in  and 
day  out,  while  he  was  a  prisoner  and  about  to 
die.  Thompson  could  have  written  on  them; 
and  Macartney  must  have  feared  it,  or  he 
never  would  have  stolen  them  from  Billy 
Jones.  I  hoped  grimly  that  he  had  been  good 
and  worried  before  he  got  his  chance  to  do  it 
and  set  his  mind  at  ease.  And  at  ease  it  must 
have  been,  for  he  had  actually  known  nothing 
about  the  cards ;  he  could  only  have  taken  them 
on  chance,  from  sheer  terror,  and  found  them, 
harmless.  He  had  probably  never  even  no- 
ticed one  was  missing — and  whatever  Thomp- 
son had  not  been  wise  about  he  had  been  wise 
when  he  took  out  a  deuce,  and  not  one  of  the 
four  aces  the  most  casual  eye  must  miss — or  he 
would  never  have  let  me  have  them,  contemp- 
tuously, as  one  lets  a  child  play  with  a  knife 
without  a  blade. 

Only  I  was  not  so  sure  this  particular  knife 
had  no  blade, — for  Macartney! 

He  knew  nothing  of  the  desperate  scrawl  on 
the  bottom  flap  of  that  envelope  that  his  own 
hasty  grab  had  jerked  off  and  left  in  my  fist; 
nothing  of  the  deuce  of  hearts  that  made  its 
crazy  inscription  pitifully  sane  to  me  now; 
and  nothing  in  particular  about  me,  Nicky 
Stretton.  But  when  I  came  to  think  of  all  I 
knew  about  Macartney,  that  was  no  remark- 
able consolation;  for — except  his  never  notic- 


A  Dead  Man's  Messenger      187 

ing  that  the  bottom  flap  of  Thompson's  en- 
velope was  missing,  and  taking  it  for  granted 
it  had  been  blank  like  the  top  one — he  had 
made  a  fool  of  me  all  along  the  line ! 

I  had  stopped  Paulette  from  going  away 
with  him  the  night  before,  after  she  thought 
she  had  burned  the  note  she  had  meant  to  slip 
into  his  hand;  but  he  must  have  told  her,  out- 
side in  the  passage,  when  I  thought  he  was 
sending  a  message  to  Marcia,  that  if  she  did 
not  go  with  him  then — in  the  next  hour — he 
would  begin  trouble  that  very  night  for  Dud- 
ley and  La  Chance. 

And  he  had!  It  was  Paulette  he  was  wait- 
ing for,  when  he  lied  to  me  about  a  strange 
man.  And  he  had  gone  straight  down  to  the 
assay  office,  done  his  own  alarm  of  a  robber, 
and  killed  four  men  to  give  it  artistic  truth. 
It  was  no  wonder  he  had  said  he  was  sick  of 
playing  in  moving  pictures  and  grinned  at  me 
when  I  left  La  Chance  to  search  the  Caraquet 
road  for  nobody  else  but  himself. 

As  for  his  gang,  the  very  bunk-house  men 
he  had  told  me  to  order  out  of  the  assay  office, 
were  just  Macartney's  own  gang  from  Skunk's 
Misery,  come  over  when  they  had  silenced 
Thompson  forever;  at  Macartney's  elbow 
whenever  he  chose  to  murder  the  lot  of  us  and 
commandeer  the  La  Chance  mine.  I  wished, 
irrelevantly,  that  Dunn  and  Collins  had  got  to 


i88    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

Macartney,  instead  of  being  killed  on  the  way ; 
they  might  have  been  chancy  young  devils 
about  stealing  gold,  but  they  would  never  have 
stood  for  murdering  old  Thompson!  It  was 
no  good  thinking  of  that,  though. 

I  stowed  away  Thompson's  deuce  of  hearts, 
that  no  boy  had  ever  come  for,  in  the  case  with 
those  other  pitiful  cards  he  had  told  me  to 
search,  and  got  on  my  feet  with  only  one 
thought  in  my  head, — to  get  back  to  La 
Chance  and  my  dream  girl  that  Macartney  was 
alone  with,  except  for  Dudley, — Dudley  whom 
he  hated,  who  had  threatened  him  for  Paulette 
Valenka,  for  Thompson,  till  it  was  no  wonder 
I  had  found  him  with  the  face  of  a  devil  where 
he  lurked  eavesdropping  in  the  shack  hall. 
And  there  something  else  hit  me  whack. 
Baker,  Dudley's  jackal,  was  one  of  Macart- 
ney's gang:  told  off,  for  all  I  knew,  to  put  him 
out  of  the  way!  I  wheeled  to  get  out  of  that 
damn  lean-to  quicker  than  I  had  got  in;  and 
instead  I  stood  rooted  to  the  floor.  Below  me, 
somewhere  underground,  somebody  was  mov- 
ing! 

Naturally,  I  knew  it  could  not  be  Macart- 
ney, because  he  could  not  have  got  there,  even 
if  he  had  not  had  other  fish  to  fry  at  home. 
But  one  of  his  gang  might  have  been  left  at 
Skunk's  Misery  and  could  have  the  life  choked 
out  of  him.  There  was  no  way  leading  under- 


A  Dead  Man's  Messenger     189 

ground  directly  from  the  lean-to,  or  I  would 
have  been  caught  the  night  I  slept  there  and 
believed  real  voices  were  a  dream.  I  slid  out 
of  the  door,  around  the  boulder  that  backed  the 
place,  and  was  afraid  of  my  lantern.  I  went 
down  on  my  hands  and  knees  to  feel  for  a  track 
and  found  one,  down  a  gully  that  ran  in  under 
a  blind  rock.  I  crawled  down  it,  all  but  flat, 
as  I  burrowed  like  a  rabbit,  with  my  back 
scraping  against  the  living  rock  between  me 
and  the  sky,  and  my  head  turned  to  the  place 
where  I  knew  the  lean-to  stood.  I  was  under 
it  with  no  warning  whatever;  in  a  natural, 
man-high  cellar  I  could  stand  up  in,  with  half 
a  dozen  bolt  holes  running  off  it :  and  I  had  no 
need  to  flash  up  my  lantern  to  see  them. 
There  was  a  light  in  the  place  already  from  a 
candle-end  Macartney's  men  must  have  left  be- 
hind ;  and  beside  it,  not  looking  at  me,  not  even 
hearing  my  step,  because  he  was  sobbing  his 
heart  out,  lay  the  boy  I  had  carried  home  from 
the  Caraquet  road! 

'  Thompson's  boy,  who  took  his  horse  to 
Billy — who  never  came  back !  "  I  said  to  my- 
self. God  knows  I  touched  him  gently,  but  he 
screamed  like  a  shot  rabbit  till  he  saw  my  face. 

"  You? "  said  I.     "  What's  the  matter  with 
you?    Brace  up;  it's  only  me! " 

Brace  up  was  just  what  he  did  not  do.     He 
sank  back  with  every  muscle  of  him  relaxed. 


The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

"  Bon  Dieu,  I  thought  you  was  him  come 
back,"  he  gasped  in  his  bastard  French  Indian, 
"  that  man  that  half  lolled  me  on  the  Caraquet 
road!  But  it  wasn't  him  I  was  crying  about. 
It  was  the  other  man — that  promised  me  two 
dollars  for  something." 

'  To  come  back  and  take  a  letter — where 
you  had  taken  his  horse?  " 

The  boy — I  did  not  even  know  his  name- 
nodded,  with  a  torrent  of  sullen  patois.  He 
had  never  come  for  his  two  dollars,  and  now 
the  man  was  gone  and  he  would  never  get  it. 
But  it  was  not  his  fault.  The  first  man — the 
one  who  had  sent  him  to  the  Halfway  with  the 
horse — had  caught  him  crawling  back  for  the 
letter,  had  told  him  the  man  who  was  going  to 
pay  him  had  gone  away  long  ago,  and  had 
taken  him  out  to  chop  firewood  and  let  a  tree 
fall  on  him.  How  the  lad  had  ever  crawled 
out  to  the  Caraquet  road  I  did  not  ask.  I 
think  the  thing  that  stabbed  me  was  that  I  had 
been  within  five  hundred  yards  of  Thompson 
all  the  time  I  was  nursing  this  very  boy,  that 
the  knowledge  of  it  had  lain  behind  uncon- 
scious lips  within  a  hand's  breadth  of  me,  that 
I  had  gone  away  ignorant,  leaving  Thompson 
robbed  of  the  only  help  he  could  ever  have 
had. 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  all  that — the  night 
I  came  over  to  your  mother's? "  I  groaned. 


A  Dead  Man's  Messenger      191 

The  boy  said  shortly  that  his  mother  would 
have  gone  straight  off  and  told  I'd  been  there, 
if  he  had  come  out  with  the  truth.  It  was  all 
lies  she  had  told  me  about  the  Frenchwoman's 
son ;  he  had  never  been  near  the  place.  It  was 
the  man  who  had  half  killed  him  who  had  built 
the  lean-to,  and  his  mother  had  said  she  would 
finish  the  business  if  ever  he  opened  his  mouth 
about  it,  or  let  out  the  truth  about  the  same 
man  sending  him  to  the  Halfway  with  a  horse, 
or  the  smelling  stuff  she  had  helped  him  make. 

"  You're  sure  she  didn't  go  and  tell  that  man 
about  me,  anyway?  "  I  remembered  Macart- 
ney's grin. 

But  the  boy  shook  his  head.  "  She  didn't 
worry ;  she  said  you  were  too  big  a  fool  to  mat- 
ter ! "  After  which  wholesome  truth  he  an- 
nounced listlessly  that  he  was  done  with  his 
mother.  She  had  turned  him  out  of  her  house 
now,  anyway.  She  said  he  was  no  good  to  her, 
now  that  he  could  only  crawl,  and  could  not 
even  trap  enough  rabbits  to  live  on,  and  she 
had  another  man  living  in  her  house  who  would 
do  it  for  her.  So  he  had  come  here  to  find  the 
man  who  had  promised  him  two  dollars — that 
solitary  bill  that  had  been  all  the  money  in 
Thompson's  pockets — and  when  he  found  him 
gone  and  the  place  empty  he  had  stayed  there 
to  hide,  and  because  he  had  nowhere  else  to  go. 

I  thought  of  his  mother's  haggard,  hand- 


192  The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery- 
some  face  and  hard  mouth.  Macartney  had 
certainly  found  a  good  ally  while  he  was  laid 
up  in  Skunk's  Misery  waiting  for  his  chance 
to  fall  on  Paulette.  But  all  that  did  not  mat- 
ter now.  What  did  matter  was  that  I  had 
found  the  missing  link  between  Thompson's 
cards  and  Macartney  in  the  boy  who  had  taken 
Thompson's  horse  back  to  the  Halfway.  I 
had  no  mind  to  produce  him  now  though;  for 
there  were  other  things  to  be  looked  to  than 
showing  up  old  Thompson's  murder.  And 
the  boy  was  safe  where  he  was,  for  one  glance 
at  him  had  told  me  he  could  not  walk  half  a 
mile. 

"  Are  you  safe  from  your  mother  here — and 
can  you  get  food  for  yourself? "  I  demanded 
abruptly,  and  the  boy  nodded  the  head  I  knew 
would  never  be  other  than  a  cripple's.  '  Well, 
you  stay  here,"  I  told  him,  because  if  ever  I 
needed  the  poor  little  devil  for  a  witness 
against  Macartney  he  would  be  no  good  lying 
dead  somewhere  in  the  bush,  "  and  I'll  come 
back  and  pay  you  ten  times  two  dollars  for 
just  waiting  here  till  I  come.  But  you'll  have 
to  hide  if  that  man  comes  back  who  sent  you 
out  with  the  horse ! "  I  knew  Macartney 
would  kill  him  in  good  earnest,  if  he  came  back 
and  found  him  with  a  living  tongue  in  his  head. 
"  Don't  you  trust  any  one  but  me — or  some 
one  who  comes  and  gives  you  twenty  dollars," 


A  Dead  Man's  Messenger      193 

I  added  emphatically,  just  because  that  was 
the  only  absolutely  unlikely  event  I  could  think 
of.  "  And  even  then,  you  stay  here  till  you 
see  me!  Understand? " 

He  said  he  did ;  it  was  easy  enough  to  creep 
out  after  dark  and  rob  rabbit  traps ;  he  was  do- 
ing it  now.  And  from  the  greed  a  fortune  of 
twenty  dollars  had  lit  in  his  wretched  eyes,  I 
knew  he  would  go  on  doing  it  till  I  came  back. 
Of  what  wildly  unexpected  use  he  was  to  be  to 
me  in  his  waiting,  heaven  knows  I  had  no 
thought.  I  crept  out  of  his  burrow  as  I  had 
crept  in,  got  back  to  my  half-frozen  horse,  and 
rode  hell  for  leather  back  to  the  Halfway. 
And  just  there  was  where  I  slumped. 

My  horse  had  to  be  fed  and  rested;  he  was 
dead  beat  when  I  led  him  into  the  unlocked 
stable,  and  when  I  had  seen  to  him  I  meant  to 
rouse  up  Billy  Jones  and  tell  him  all  the  ugly 
stuff  I  had  unearthed — and  seen  too — for  the 
killing  of  four  innocent  men  was  hot  in  my 
mind.  But  I  did  not,  for  the  excellent  reason 
that  Billy  was  not  back.  His  house  was  dark, 
and  his  four  horses  still  away  from  their  vacant 
stalls.  I  sat  down  on  a  heap  of  clean  straw  to 
wait  for  him,  and  I  said  I  slumped.  I  went 
sound,  dead  asleep.  If  I  was  hunting  for 
excuses  I  might  say  it  was  two  in  the  morning, 
and  I  had  been  up  most  of  the  night  before. 
But  anyhow,  I  did  it.  And  I  sat  up,  dazed, 


194    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

to  see  a  lantern  held  in  front  of  my  eyes  and 
one  of  Macartney's  men  from  La  Chance  star- 
ing at  me. 

It  struck  me  even  then  that  it  was  not  he  who 
was  surprised;  and  the  sleep  jerked  out  of  me 
like  wine  out  of  a  glass.  '  What  are  you  do- 
ing here?  And  where  the  devil's  Billy? "  I 
snapped,  without  thinking. 

I  saw  the  man  grin.  "  Billy's  fired,"  he 
returned  coolly.  "  Him  and  his  wife  got  it  in 
a  note  from  Wilbraham,  day  before  yesterday, 
when  your  teamsters  stopped  here  on  their  way 
to  Caraquet.  They  doubled  up  their  teams 
with  Billy's  and  took  him  and  his  wife  along, 
and  all  their  stuff .  And  I  guess  they'd  been 
fired  too,  for  they  ain't  come  back.  Mr.  Ma- 
cartney sent  me  over  to  see.  Anything  I  can 
do  for  you? " 

"  Take  that  lantern  out  of  my  eyes,  and  hus- 
tle me  up  some  breakfast.  I — I'm  sorry  about 
Billy!"  I  was  not;  I  was  startled, — and 
worse.  It  had  not  been  Dudley  who  had  dis- 
missed him,  asinine  as  he  had  been  about  Billy 
and  old  Thompson,  or  he  would  have  told  me. 
It  had  been  Macartney,  getting  rid  of  him  and 
my  teamsters  under  my  very  nose;  and — as 
Macartney's  parting  grin  recurred  to  me — if 
his  man  had  any  one  with  him  in  Billy's  vacant 
shack  they  had  been  put  there  to  get  rid  of  me. 

"  Get  me  a  bucket  of  water  and  make  coffee, 


A  Dead  Man's  Messenger      195 

if  you  haven't  done  it,"  I  said,  yawning.  "  I'll 
come  in — as  soon  as  I've  fed  my  horse." 

But  I  did  neither.  I  stopped  yawning,  too. 
Through  the  frosty  window,  as  the  man  disap- 
peared for  the  shack,  I  saw  a  light  in  its  door- 
way and  two  more  of  Macartney's  men  stand- 
ing in  it,  black  between  the  lamp  and  the  gray 
morning  glimmer.  I  stirred  some  meal  into 
the  water  Macartney's  man  had  brought,  drank 
a  mouthful  before  I  let  my  horse  have  just 
enough  to  rinse  his  throat  with,  and  threw  on 
his  saddle.  It  was  flat  on  his  neck  that  I  came 
out  the  stable  door,  and  what  Macartney's  men 
meant  to  have  done  I  don't  know,  for  I  was 
down  the  road  toward  La  Chance  like  a  rocket. 
And  before  I  had  made  a  mile  I  knew  I  had 
got  off  none  too  soon,  for  we  were  going  to 
have  snow  at  last,  and  have  it  hard. 

Before  I  cleared  the  corduroy  road  it  cut  my 
face  in  fine  stinging  flakes,  and  by  the  time  I 
was  halfway  to  La  Chance  it  was  blinding  me. 
It  came  on  a  wind,  too,  and  I  cursed  it  as  I 
faced  it,  with  my  horse  toiling  through  the 
heavy,  sandy  stuff  that  was  too  cold  and  dry  to 
pack.  The  twenty-two  miles  home  took  me 
most  of  the  day.  It  was  close  on  dusk  when 
I  fumbled  through  drifting,  hissing  snow  and 
choking  wind,  to  the  door  of  the  La  Chance 
stable.  And  the  second  I  got  inside  I  knew 
Macartney's  man  had  told  the  truth,  and  Ma- 


196    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

cartney  had  fired  my  teamsters?  with  Billy 
Jones.  There  was  not  a  soul  about  the  place, 
and  ten  hungry  horses  yelled  at  me  at  once  as 
I  stamped  my  half-frozen  feet  on  the  floor.  I 
would  have  shouted  for  Charliet  if  it  had  not 
seemed  quicker  to  feed  them  myself.  I  yanked 
down  a  forkful  of  hay  for  each  of  them,  after 
I  saw  to  my  own  horse.  And  if  you  think  I 
was  a  fool  to  worry  over  dumb  beasts,  just  that 
small  delay  made  a  difference  in  my  immediate 
future  that  likely  saved  my  life.  If  I  had 
raced  off  for  the  house  at  once  I  might  have 

met  with Well,  an  accident !    But  that 

comes  in  later. 

As  it  was  I  was  a  good  twenty  minutes  in 
that  stable.  When  I  waded  out  into  the  swirl- 
ing white  dusk  of  snow  and  wind  between  me 
and  the  shack  I  was  just  cautious  enough,  after 
the  Halfway  business,  to  stare  hard  through 
the  blinding  storm  at  the  house  I  was  making 
for,  though  I  did  not  think  Macartney  was  ripe 
to  dare  anything  open  against  me  at  La 
Chance.  But  with  that  stare  I  knew  abruptly 
that  he  was!  Massed  just  inside  the  open 
door  of  Dudley's  shack,  that  was  black  dark 
but  for  one  light  in  the  living-room  window, 
were  a  crowd  of  men  that  looked  like  nothing 
in  the  world  but  our  own  miners,  that  I  knew 
now  for  Hutton's — or  Macartney's — gang! 
How  he  dared  have  them  there,  instead  of  in 


A  Dead  Man's  Messenger      197 

the  bunk  house,  beat  me, — but  it  was  them,  all 
right.  The  wind  was  clear  of  snow  for  one 
second,  and  I  saw  them  plainly.  And  they 
saw  me.  Without  one  sound  the  whole  gang 
jumped  for  me.  I  had  my  gun  out,  and  I 
could  have  stopped  the  leaders  before  I  had  to 
get  back  against  the  stable  door ;  but  there  was 
no  need. 

There  was  a  shout  behind  me.  The  men 
checked,  sprawling  over  each  other  in  the  snow 
— ludicrously,  if  I  had  been  seeing  much  hu- 
mor in  things — and  it  was  then  it  struck  me 
that  I  should  have  had  an  accident  if  I  had 
bolted  straight  into  a  dark  house,  instead  of 
delaying  in  the  stable  till  Macartney's  gang  got 
tired  of  waiting  for  me  and  bundled  out  them- 
selves to  see  where  I  was.  But  I  only  wheeled, 
with  my  gun  in  my  fist,  to  Macartney's  voice. 

What  I  had  expected  to  see  I  don't  know. 
What  I  did  see,  stumbling  through  the  drifts 
to  me,  was  an  indistinguishable  figure  that 
turned  out  to  be  two.  For  it  was  Macartney, 
carrying  Marcia  Wilbraham.  And  behind 
him,  short-skirted  to  her  knees,  and  with  no 
coat  but  her  miserable  little  blue  sweater,  came 
my  dream  girl. 

I  forgot  Macartney  could  not  know  I  knew 
he  was  Hutton,  or  all  the  rest  that  I  did  know. 
I  said,  "  What  hell's  trick  are  you  up  to  now?  " 

But  Macartney  only  turned  a  played-out 


198    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery- 
face  to  me.     "  Take  her  from  me,  will  you?  " 
he  snapped.     "  I'm   done."     He  let  Marcia 
slip    down    into    the    snow.      "  Wilbraham's 
killed!" 


CHAPTER  XIV 

WOLVES— AND  DUDLEY 

IT  was  cleverly  done.  So  was  the  desperate 
gesture  of  Macartney's  hand  across  his  blood- 
shot, congested  eyes.  If  I  had  not  had  Thomp- 
son's deuce  of  hearts  in  my  pocket  I  might 
have  doubted  if  Macartney  really  were  Hut- 
ton,  or  had  had  any  hand  in  the  long  tale  of 
tragedy  at  La  Chance.  But  as  it  was  I  knew, 
in  my  inside  soul,  bleakly,  that  if  Dudley  were 
dead  Macartney  had  killed  him, — as  only  luck 
had  kept  him  from  killing  me. 

I  saw  him  give  a  quick,  flicking  sign  to  his 
men  with  the  fingers  of  the  hand  that  still  cov- 
ered his  eyes,  and  I  knew  I  was  right  in  the  last 
thing,  anyhow,  for  the  men  straggled  back 
from  us,  as  to  an  order.  They  were  to  do 
nothing  now,  before  Paulette  and  Marcia,  if 
their  first  instructions  had  been  to  ambush  in- 
side the  shack  to  dispose  of  me  when  I  got  back 
from  the  Halfway, — which  I  had  not  been 
meant  to  do.  I  did  not  drop  my  gun  hand,  or 
fling  the  truth  at  Macartney.  But  I  made  no 


200    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery- 
move  to  pick  up  Marcia.     I  said,  "  How  d'ye 
mean  Dudley's  killed?    Who  killed  him?  " 

"  Wolves ! "  If  Macartney  meant  me  to 
think  he  was  too  sick  to  answer  properly  he 
was  not,  for  he  spoke  suddenly  to  the  bunk- 
house  men.  '  There  is  no  good  in  your  wait- 
ing round,  or  looking  any  more.  They've  got 
Mr.  Wilbraham,  and  " — he  turned  his  head  to 
me  again—  "  they  damn  nearly  got  me !  " 

Later,  I  wished  sincerely  that  they  had,  for 
it  would  have  saved  me  some  trouble.  At  that 
minute  all  I  wanted  was  to  get  even  with  Ma- 
cartney myself.  I  said,  "  Pick  up  Marcia  and 
get  into  the  house.  You  can  talk  there !  " 

Macartney  glanced  at  me.  Secretly,  per- 
haps, neither  of  us  wanted  to  give  the  other  a 
chance  by  stooping  for  a  heavy  girl;  I  knew  I 
was  not  going  to  do  it.  But  Paulette  must 
have  feared  I  was.  She  sprang  past  me  and 
lifted  Marcia  with  smooth,  effortless  strength, 
as  if  she  were  nothing. 

Macartney  started,  as  though  he  realized  he 
had  been  a  fool  not  to  have  done  it  himself,  and 
wheeled  to  walk  into  the  house  before  us,  where 
he  could  have  slipped  cartridges  into  his  gun; 
I  knew  afterwards  that  it  was  empty.  But 
Paulette  had  moved  off  with  Marcia  and  a  per- 
emptory gesture  of  her  back-flung  head  that 
kept  Macartney  behind  her.  I  came  behind 
him.  And  because  he  had  no  idea  of  all  I 


Wolves—And  Dudley         201 

knew  about  him,  he  took  things  as  they  looked 
on  the  surface.  With  Paulette  leading,  and 
me  on  Macartney's  heels,  we  filed  into  the  liv- 
ing room.  There  was  a  light  there,  but  the 
fire  was  out.  I  guessed  Charliet  was  hiding 
under  his  bed, — in  which  I  wronged  him.  But 
I  was  not  worrying  about  Charliet  or  cold 
rooms  then.  Paulette  laid  Marcia  down  on 
the  floor,  and  I  stood  in  the  doorway.  I  did 
not  believe  the  bunk-house  men  would  come 
back  till  an  open  row  suited  Macartney's  book, 
but  there  was  no  harm  in  commanding  the  out- 
side doors  of  the  shack,  all  the  same.  And  the 
sudden  thought  that  we  were  all  in  the  living 
room  but  Dudley,  and  that  he  would  never 
come  back  to  it,  gripped  my  soul  between  fury 
and  anguish.  "  Get  it  out — about  Dudley," 
I  said;  and  I  did  not  care  if  my  voice  were 
thick. 

Macartney  looked  over  at  me  just  as  an 
honest,  capable  superintendent  ought  to  have 
looked.  "  I  can't ;  because  I  don't  know  it. 
All  I  do  know's  this.  After  you  went  off  yes- 
terday Wilbraham  got  to  drinking;  the  wolves 
began  to  howl  round  the  place  after  dark,  and 
he  said  they  drove  him  mad.  He  got  a  gun 
and  went  out  after  them — and  he  never  came 
back.  I  didn't  even  know  he  was  gone  till 
midnight.  I  thought  he'd  shut  himself  in  his 
office  as  he  often  does,  till  I  heard  shots  outside, 


202    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

and  found  he  wasn't  in  the  house.  I  turned 
out  the  bunk-house  men  to  look  for  him  that 
instant,  and  when  the  lot  you  saw  waiting  in 
the  shack  for  me  came  home  toward  morning, 
and  said  they  couldn't  find  a  sign  of  Wilbra- 
ham,  and  the  bush  was  so  full  of  wolves  they 
were  scared  to  go  on  looking,  I  went  my- 
self  " 

"  And  took  girls  " — I  remembered  the  reek 
of  my  wolf-doped  clothes  till  I  fancied  I  could 
smell  the  stuff  there  in  the  room,  thought  of  a 
half  drunk  man  walking  out  on  a  like  baited 
track,  and  two  girls  taken  over  it  to  look  for 
him — "  into  bush  like  that!  " 

"They  followed  me,"  curtly.  "I  didn't 
know  it  till  it  was  too  late  to  turn  them  back! 
I  couldn't  have  sent  Miss  Wilbraham  back, 
anyhow;  she  was  nearly  crazy.  And  if  you're 
thinking  of  wolves,  it  was  getting  daylight, 

and "  he  hesitated,  and  I  could  have  filled 

in  the  pause  for  myself,  remembering  how  that 
wolf  dope  acted:  two  lambs  could  have  moved 
in  the  bush  with  safety,  so  long  as  they  kept 
away  from  where  it  was  smeared  on  the 
ground.  But  Macartney  filled  it  in  differ- 
ently. "  And,  anyhow,  it  was  well  they  did 
come.  It  was  Marcia — found  Wilbraham !  " 

I  don't  think  I  had  really  believed  Dudley 
was  dead  till  then.  I  stared  at  Marcia,  lying 
on  the  floor  as  purple  in  the  face  from  over- 


Wolves— And  Dudley         203 

exertion  and  fright  as  if  she  had  had  an  apo- 
plectic fit,  and  at  Paulette  stooping  over  her, 
silent,  and  white  around  the  mouth.  She 
looked  up  at  me,  and  her  eyes  gave  me  fierce 
warning,  if  I  had  needed  it. 

"  Marcia  got  afraid  and  bolted  for  home — 
the  wrong  way,"  she  spoke  up  sharply. 
"  When  I  ran  after  her  she  was  standing  in 
some  spruces,  screaming  and  pointing  in  front 
of  her.  I  saw  the  blood  on  the  ground, 
and-  —  Here's  Dudley's  cap!  I  found  it, 
all  chewed,  close  by."  She  pulled  out  a  rag 
of  fur  from  under  her  snow-caked  sweater ;  and 
as  the  stale  reek  of  the  Skunk's  Misery  wolf 
dope  rose  from  the  thing,  I  knew  the  smell  in 
the  room  had  been  no  fancy,  and  how  Dudley 
Wilbraham  had  died.  I  wheeled  and  saw  Ma- 
cartney's face, — the  face  of  a  man  who  took  me 
for  a  fool  whose  nose  would  tell  him  nothing. 

"  D'ye  mean  that  was  all  you  found? "  I 
got  out. 

"  No !  The  rest  was  there.  But  it  was — 
unrecognizable!  Even  I  couldn't  look  at  it. 
It  was — pretty  tough,  for  girls.  I  shot  one 
wolf  we  scared  off  it,  but  I  couldn't  do  any- 
thing more.  I  couldn't  lift — it ;  but — Dudley's 
coat  was  on  it."  He  had  turned  so  white  that  I 
remembered  his  faint  in  the  assay  office,  like 
you  do  remember  things  that  don't  matter.  I 
would  have  thought  him  chicken-hearted  for  a 


204    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

wholesale  murderer,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
cold  hate  in  his  eyes. 

"  D'ye  mean  you  left  Dudley — out  there  in 
the  bush?  Where  the  devil  was  Baker,  that 
black  and  white  weasel  you  set  to  look  after 
him?  I'll  bet  he  saved  his  skin!  Where  is 
he?" 

"  Baker's  missing,  too,"  simply;  and  I  did 
not  believe  it.  "  And  I  don't  see  what  else  I 
could  have  done  but  leave  Dudley.  None  of 
the  men  were  with  me  to  carry  him  in;  it  had 
begun  to  snow ;  and  in  another  hour  I  couldn't 
have  kept  the  track  back  to  La  Chance.  As  it 
was,  Miss  Marcia  played  out;  I  had  to  carry 
her  most  of  the  way.  And  that's  all  there  is 
to  it,"  with  sudden  impatience,  "  except  that 
Wilbraham's  dead  and  Baker's  missing.  If 
he  wasn't,  he  would  have  brought  Dudley  in." 

"  Yes,"  I  said.  I  saw  Charliet's  head  poke 
around  the  corner  of  the  kitchen  door  and 
called  to  him  to  carry  Marcia  to  her  room,  and 
to  get  fires  going  and  something  to  eat ;  for  the 
queer  part  of  it  was  that  there  seemed  to  be 
two  of  me,  and  one  of  them  was  thinking  it  was 
starving.  It  saw  Charliet  and  my  dream  girl 
take  Marcia  out,  and  the  other  me  turned  on 
Macartney. 

"  By  gad,  there's  one  thing  more,"  I  said 
slowly.  '  You  don't  have  to  go  on  playing 
moving  pictures,  Dick  Hutton,  or  using  an 


Wolves — And  Dudley         205 

alias  either!  You've  killed  Dudley  and 
Thompson,  and  for  a  good  guess  Dunn  and 
Collins,  if  I  can't  be  sure — and  you'd  have  had 
me  first  of  all,  if  your  boulder  and  your  wolf 
dope  hadn't  failed  you  on  the  Caraquet  road !  " 

Macartney's  furious,  surprised  oath  was 
real.  "  I  don't  know  what  you  mean!  Who 
on  earth  " — but  he  stammered  on  it — "  Who 
d'ye  mean  by  Hutton?  " 

"  You,"  said  I.  "And  if  you're  not  he,  I 
don't  know  why!  There's  no  one  else  who 
would  have  followed  Paulette  Valenka  out 
here.  I  don't  believe  what  you've  done's  been 
all  revenge  on  the  girl  you  tried  to  get  into 
trouble  about  Van  Ruyne's  emeralds,  or  scare 
that  Dudley  would  worm  out  the  truth  about 
that,  either:  but  if  it  was  to  jump  the  La 
Chance  mine  too,  you're  busted!  Your  acci- 
dent serial  story  won't  go  down.  I  knew  about 
your  wolf  dope  business  long  ago,  and  do  you 
suppose  this"  I  shoved  Dudley's  cap  under  his 
nose,  "  doesn't  tell  me  how  you  limed  the  trap 
you  set  for  Dudley  last  night,  or  what  you 
smeared  on  his  clothes  when  he  was  too  drunk 
to  smell  it?  I  know  what  brought  the  wolves 
to  howl  around  this  house,  if  I  don't  know  how 
you  shoved  Dudley  out  to  them.  I  know  it 
was  a  home-made  raid  you  had  down  at  the  as- 
say office,  and — I've  been  to  Skunk's  Misery! " 

"  Well?  "  said  Macartney  thickly. 


206    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

"  Well  enough !  I  have  Thompson's  deuce 
of  hearts  you  didn't  see  was  missing,  when  you 
gave  me  back  his  pack!  With  any  luck  I'll 
pay  you  out  for  that,  and  our  four  mill  men, 
and  Dudley;  not  here,  where  you  can  fight 
and  die  quick,  but  outside — where  they've 
things  like  gallows!  Oh,  you  would,  would 
you? " 

For  his  empty  gun  just  missed  me  as  he 
made  a  lightning  jump  to  bring  it  down  on  my 
head,  and  my  left  hand  stopped  him  up  just 
under  the  ear.  I  ought  to  have  shot  him.  I 
don't  know  why  I  held  back.  I  was  so  mad 
with  rage  when  he  dropped  that  I  could  have 
jumped  on  him  like  a  lumberman  and  tramped 
the  heart  out  of  him.  But  I  only  lit  for  the 
kitchen,  and  Charliet's  clothesline.  As  I  got 
back  and  knelt  down  by  the  man  who  had 
called  himself  Macartney,  Thompson  rose  up 
before  me,  as  he  had  sat  in  that  very  room, 
playing  his  lonely  solitaire;  and  the  four  dead 
men  in  the  assay  office;  and  Dudley — only  I 
had  no  grief  for  Dudley,  because  it  was 
drowned  in  rage.  I  bound  Macartney  round 
and  round  with  the  clothesline,  whether  he  was 
really  Hutton  or  not, — and  I  meant  to  have 
the  truth  out  of  him  about  that  and  everything 
else  before  I  was  done.  But  when  I  had  him 
gagged  with  kitchen  towels  while  he  was  still 
knocked  out,  I  sat  back  on  my  heels  to  think; 


Wolves — And  Dudley         207 

and  I  damned  myself  up  and  down  because  I 
had  not  shot  Macartney  out  of  hand. 

I  had  Macartney  all  right;  but  I  had  next 
door  to  nothing  else,  unless  I  could  find  a  safe 
place  to  jail  him  while  I  disposed  of  his  men. 
Now,  if  they  chose  to  rush  me,  I  could  not  hold 
the  eight  shack  windows  against  them,  if  Paul- 
ette  and  I  might  each  hold  a  door.  If  I  took 
to  the  bush  with  Paulette  and  Marcia,  and  Ma- 
cartney, I  had  nowhere  on  earth  to  go.  There 
could  be  no  piling  that  ill-assorted  company  on 
horses  and  putting  out  for  Caraquet,  with  the 
road  choked  with  snow,  even  if  I  could  have 
got  by  Macartney's  garrison  at  the  Halfway. 
Crossing  Lac  Tremblant,  that  by  to-morrow 
would  be  lying  sweetly  level  under  a  treacher- 
ous scum  of  lolly  and  drifted  snow,  ready  to 
drown  us  all  like  Thompson, — I  cursed  and 
put  that  out  of  the  question.  That  lake  that 
was  no  lake  offered  about  as  good  a  thorough- 
fare as  rats  get  in  a  rain-barrel.  Whereas,  to 
hold  Macartney  at  La  Chance  till  I  downed  his 
gang 

"  By  gad,"  I  flashed  out,  "  I  can  do  it— in 
Thompson's  abandoned  stope ! "  It  was  not 
so  crazy  as  it  sounds.  Thompson's  measly  en- 
trance tunnel  would  only  admit  one  man  at  a 
time,  and  I  could  hold  it  alone  till  doomsday. 
Macartney  could  be  safely  jailed  inside  the 
stope  till  I  had  wiped  out  his  men;  Paulette 


208  The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery- 
would  be  safe;  and  there  remained  no  doubtful 
quantities  but  Marcia  and  Charliet  the  cook. 
I  guessed  I  could  scare  Marcia  and  that  Char- 
liet would  probably  be  on  my  side,  anyway. 
If  he  were  and  sneaked  down  now  to  provision 
the  stope,  the  thing  would  be  dead  easy,  even  to 
firewood,  for  Thompson  had  yanked  in  a  cou- 
ple of  loads  of  mine  props  and  left  them  there. 
I  lit  out  into  the  passage  to  hunt  Charliet  and 
find  out  where  the  bunk-house  men  had  gone 
to.  But  there  was  no  sign  of  either  in  the 
wind  and  snow  outside  the  shack.  I  bolted  the 
door  on  the  storm,  turned  for  the  kitchen,  and 
saw  my  dream  girl  standing  outside  Marcia's 
room. 

She  was  dead  white  in  the  dim  candlelight 
that  shone  through  Marcia's  half-open  door. 
I  thought  of  that  as  I  jumped  to  her,  and  I 
would  have  done  better  to  have  thought  of 
Marcia.  I  could  see  her  from  the  passage,  ly- 
ing on  her  bed,  purple-faced  still,  and  with  her 
eyes  shut.  But  one  glance  was  all  I  gave  to 
Marcia.  I  said: 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  Paulette,  don't  look 
like  that !  I'm  top-sides  with  Macartney  now. 
Got  him  tied  up.  Come  into  the  kitchen  till  I 
speak  to  you.  I  want  Charliet  -  But  as 

I  pushed  Paulette  before  me,  into  the  kitchen 
just  across  the  passage  from  Marcia's  room,  I 
stopped  speaking.  She  was  holding  out 


Wolves — And  Dudley         209 

Thompson's  case  of  cards, — open,  with  that 
scrawled  two  of  hearts  on  the  top ! 

"  Charliet's  gone — run  away  somewhere." 
Her  chest  labored  as  if  she  were  making  herself 
go  on  breathing,  "  and  you  dropped — this!  I 
ran  out  from  Marcia  to  see  what  you  were  do- 
ing with  Macartney,"  she  hesitated  on  the 

name,  "  and  you'd  dropped  this.  I You 

know  Macartney  killed  Dudley,  really.  Does 
this  mean  he  killed  Thompson,  too?  " 

'  You  can  say  Macartney's  real  name,"  I 
snapped  bitterly.  "  I've  known  he  was  Dick 
Hutton  ever  since  last  night." 

But  Paulette  only  gasped,  as  if  she  did  not 
care  whether  I  knew  it  or  not,  "  Where — 
how — did  you  get  these  cards?  " 

I  told  her,  and  she  gave  a  queer  low  moan. 
"  Dudley's  dead,  and  I'm  past  crying."  Her 
voice  never  rose  when  she  was  moved;  it  went 
down,  to  D  below  the  line  on  a  violin.  "  I'm 
past  everything,  but  wishing  I  was  dead,  too, 
for  I'm  the  reason  that  brought  Dick  Hutton 
here  as  Macartney.  Oh,  you  should  have  let 
me  meet  him  that  night !  I  wasn't  only  going 
to  meet  him ;  I  meant  to  go  away  with  him  be- 
fore morning.  It  would  have  been  too  late  for 
poor,  innocent  old  Thompson,  but  it  would 
have  saved  the  four  mill  men — and  Dudley !  " 
She  had  said  she  was  past  crying,  but  her  voice 
thrilled  through  me  worse  than  tears;  and  it 


210    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

might  have  thrilled  Marcia  in  her  room  across 
the  passage,  if  I'd  remembered  Marcia.  "  God 
knows  Dudley  was  good  to  me — but  it's  no  use 
talking  of  that  now.  What  have  you  done 
with  Macart — with  Dick  Hutton — that  you 
said  you  had  him  safe  for  now?  " 

"Knocked  him  out;  and  tied  him  up  with 
the  clothesline,  in  the  living  room — till  I  can 
take  him  out  to  Caraquet  to  be  hanged !  " 

'  You  ought  to  have  killed  him,"  Paulette 
answered  very  slowly.  "  I  would  have,  when 
we  found  Dudley,  only  he'd  taken  my  gun. 
At  least,  I  believe  he  had:  he  said  I'd  lost  it. 
And  I'm  afraid,  without  it — while  Dick  Hut- 
ton's  alive ! " 

I  looked  at  her  ghastly  face  and  behaved  like 
a  fool  for  the  hundredth  time  in  this  history; 
for  I  shoved  my  own  gun  into  her  hand  and 
told  her  to  keep  it,  that  I'd  get  another.  I 
would  have  caught  her  in  my  arms  if  it  had  not 
been  for  remembering  Dudley,  who  was  dead 
because  the  two  of  us  had  held  our  tongues  to 
him.  "  Look  here,"  I  said  irrelevantly. 
"  D'ye  know  Marcia  thinks  Macartney  wants 
to  marry  her? " 

"  He  doesn't  want  to  marry  any  ene — ex- 
cept me,"  Paulette  retorted  scornfully;  and 
once  more  I  should  have  remembered  Marcia 
across  the  passage,  only  I  didn't.  "  He's  made 
love  to  Marcia,  of  course,  for  a  blind,  like  he 


Wolves — And  Dudley         211 

did  everything  else.  If  we  could  make  her 
realize  that  and  that  he  killed  Dudley  as  surely 
as  if  he'd  lifted  his  own  hand  to  him " 

But  I  cut  her  off.  "  By  gad,  Paulette,  what 
sticks  me  is  what  Macartney  did  all  this  for! " 

"Me,"  said  Paulette  very  bitterly.  "At 
least,  at  first;  I'm  not  so  sure  about  it  now. 
When  I  first  met  Dick  we  were  in  Russia. 
He'd  got  into  trouble  over  a  copper  mine — 
you've  heard  Macartney  talk  of  the  Urals?  " — 
if  we  both  spoke  of  him  as  though  he  were 
two  different  men  neither  of  us  noticed.  "  He 
came  to  me  in  Petrograd,  penniless,  and  I 
helped  him.  But  when  I  came  to  America, 
alone,  I  turned  him  out  of  my  flat.  He  may 
have  loved  me,  I  don't  know;  but  when  I 
wouldn't  marry  him,  he  said  he'd  make  me; 
that  he'd  hound  me  wherever  I  went  and  dis- 
grace me,  till  I  had  to  give  in  and  come  to  him. 
And  he  must  have  done  it  at  the  Houstons',  if 
I  don't  know  how;  for  the  police  would  take 
me  now  for  those  emeralds  I  never  stole,  if 
they  knew  where  I  was.  I  can't  see  where 
Dick  could  have  been  or  how  he  managed  the 
thing,  but  all  the  rest  Dudley  told  you  and  him 
about  that  night  at  the  Houstons'  was  true.  I 
did  give  Van  Ruyne  sleeping  stuff  to  keep  him 
quiet  while  I  got  away,  but  it  was  because  it 
came  over  me — the  second  I  knew  those  emer- 
alds were  gone — that  Dick  must  be  in  that 


212    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

house! — that  if  I  didn't  run  away,  he'd  come  in 
and  threaten  me  till  I  had  to  go  with  him. 
And  I'd  have  died  first.  I  slipped  out  of  the 
house  unseen;  and  it  was  just  the  Blessed  Vir- 
gin," simply,  "  who  made  me  find  Dudley's  car 
stalled  outside  the  Houstons'  gate !  " 

"  D'ye  mean  you'd  known  Dudley  before?  " 

She  nodded.  "  I'd  met  him:  and  I  liked 
him,  because  he  never  made  love  to  me.  He 
hadn't  been  at  the  Houstons'  that  night;  he 
was  only  coming  back  from  Southampton 
alone,  without  any  chauffeur.  I  knew  no  one 
would  ever  think  he'd  helped  me,  so  I  just  got 
into  his  car.  But  I  never  should  have  let  him 
bring  me  here,"  bitterly;  "  I  should  have 
known  Dick  would  find  me,  and  play  gold  rob- 
beries here  to  pay  Dudley  out.  He  told  me  he 
would,  unless  I'd  go  away  with  him — that  first 
night  you  heard  me  talking  to  him — but  I 
didn't  see  how  he  could  work  it.  I  thought  I 
could  tire  him  out  by  always  balking  him — till 
that  night  I  didn't  meet  him,  and  he  killed 
those  four  men.  Then  I  knew  I  couldn't  fight 
him ;  and  the  reason  was  that  Dick's  a  finished 
mining  engineer  who  never  ran  straight  in  his 
life!" 

"  What?  "  I  knew  both  things,  only  I  saw 
no  connection  with  Paulette. 

But  she  nodded.  "  He  could  get  good  work 
anywhere,  but  he  won't  work  honestly.  All  he 


Wolves — And  Dudley         213 

cares  for  is  the  excitement  of  big  things  he  can 
get  at  crookedly.  That  was  why  he  tried  a 
coup  with  that  copper  mine  in  the  Urals  and 
had  to  clear  out  of  Russia.  And  the  La 
Chance  mine  that  he  came  to  contemptuously, 
and  just  to  get  hold  of  me,  is  a  big  thing  too. 
No — listen!  You  don't  know  how  big,  for 
you've  been  kept  in  the  dark.  But  Dick 
knows;  and  that's  how  I  first  knew  I  couldn't 
manage  him  any  more,  and  why  I  don't  think 
it  is  I  he  has  done  all  he  has  for,  nor  that  it  was 
even  to  pay  out  Dudley.  I  believe  it  was  to 
get  the  mine! " 

"  Then  why,  in  heaven's  name,  didn't  you 
tell  Dudley  who  he  was?  " 

"  I  couldn't  make  Dudley  listen,  at  first. 
Then,"  very  low,  "  I  didn't  dare;  I  knew  it 
would  mean  that  Dudley  would  get  killed.  I 
never  thought  that — would  happen,  anyway." 

;<  There  was  me."  I  was  stung  unbearably. 
'  You  must  have  known  ever  since  the  night  I 
first  came  here  that  there  was  always  me!  " 

"  Y-you,"  she  stumbled  oddly  on  it.  "  I 
couldn't  tell  you!  Can't  you  see  I  was  afraid, 
Nicky,  that  you  might — get  killed  for  me, 
too? " 

For  the  first  time  that  night  she  looked  at 
me  as  if  she  saw  me — me,  Nicky  Stretton, 
dark,  fierce  and  dirty — and  not  Dudley  Wil- 
braham  and  the  dead.  My  name  in  that  voice 


214    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

of  hers  would  have  caught  me  at  my  heart,  if  I 
had  dared  to  be  thinking  of  her.  But  I  was 
not.  It  had  flashed  through  me  that  Marcia's 
door  had  been  half  open  when  we  went  into 
the  kitchen, — and  that  now  it  was  shut ! 

It  was  a  trifling  thing  to  make  my  heart  turn 
over ;  but  it  did.  I  covered  the  passage  in  two 
jumps  to  the  living-room  door.  But  as  I 
flung  it  open,  all  I  had  time  to  see  was  that  the 
window  was  open  too;  with  Marcia  standing 
by  it  in  her  horrible  green  shooting  clothes, 
just  as  she  had  lain  on  her  bed,  and  a  crowd  of 
bunk-house  men  swarming  through  the  open 
sash  behind  her  and  Macartney, — Macartney, 
standing  on  his  feet  without  any  clothesline, 
with  his  gun  in  his  hand! 

I  saw,  like  you  do  see  things,  how  it  had  all 
happened.  I  had  misjudged  Macartney's  in- 
tellect about  the  bunk-house  men;  he  had  had 
them  within  call.  But  it  was  no  one  but 
Marcia  who  had  let  them  in,  and  she  had  freed 
Macartney.  She  had  overheard  Paulette  and 
me  in  the  kitchen,  had  shut  her  door,  slipped 
out  of  her  own  window  and  into  the  living 
room,  and  cut  Macartney's  rope.  She  had  no 
earthly  reason  to  connect  him  with  Dudley's 
death,  except  the  scraps  of  conversation  she 
had  overheard  from  Paulette  and  me;  she  knew 
nothing  of  the  bottle  of  wolf  dope  that  had  been 
meant  to  smash  in  my  wagon,  or  that  Dudley — 


Wolves — And  Dudley        215 

so  full  up  with  drink  and  drugs  that  he  could 
not  have  smelled  even  that  mixture  of  skunks 
and  sulphide — could  easily  have  been  sent  out 
reeking  with  it,  into  bush  that  reeked  of  it  too. 
And  that  second  she  screamed  at  me:  "  You 
lie,  Nicky  Stretton;  you,  and  that  girl!  He's 
not  Hutton — he's  Macartney !  " 

But  Macartney  fired  full  in  my  face. 

It  was  Marcia's  flying  jump  that  made  him 
miss  me.  Even  though  his  very  cartridge  was 
one  of  hers  that  she  always  carried  in  her 
pockets,  and  must  have  been  given  to  him  the 
first  thing,  I  don't  think  she  had  been  prepared 
to  see  me  killed.  I  didn't  wait  to  see.  I  was 
down  the  passage  to  Paulette  before  Macart- 
ney could  get  in  a  second  shot.  As  he,  and 
some  of  the  bunk-house  men  tore  out  of  the 
living  room  after  me,  I  fired  into  the  brown 
mass  of  them  with  my  own  gun,  that  I 
snatched  from  Paulette.  I  thought  it  checked 
them,  and  lit  out  of  the  kitchen  door,  into  the 
wind  and  the  dark  and  the  raving,  swirling 
snow,  with  my  dream  girl's  hand  gripped  in 
mine.  We  plunged  knee-deep,  waist-deep 
through  the  drifts,  for  our  lives, — for  mine, 
anyhow. 

"  Thompson's  stope,"  I  gasped;  and  she  said 
yes.  I  couldn't  see  an  inch  before  me,  but  I 
think  we  would  have  made  it,  since  Macartney 
could  not  see,  either.  I  knew  we  were  far 


216    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

ahead  of  him,  but  that  was  all  I  did  know,  till 
I  heard  myself  shout  to  Paulette,  "  Run! " — 
and  felt  my  legs  double  under  me.  If  some- 
thing hit  me  on  the  head  like  a  ton  of  brick  I 
had  no  sense  of  what  had  happened,  as  people 
have  in  books.  I  only  realized  I  had  been 
knocked  out  when  I  felt  myself  coming  to. 
Somehow  it  felt  quite  natural  to  be  deadly 
faint  and  sick,  and  lying  flat,  like  a  log, — till 
I  put  out  my  hand  and  touched  hard  rock. 

"  I  don't  see  how  it's  rock,"  I  thought  dully; 
"  it  ought  to  be  snow !  Something  hit  me — 
out  in  the  snow  with  Paulette ! "  And  with 
that  sense  came  back  to  me,  like  a  red-hot  iron 
in  my  brain.  I  had  been  out  in  the  snow  with 
Paulette;  one  of  Macartney's  men  must  have 
hit  me  a  swipe  on  the  head  and  got  her  from 
me.  But — where  in  heaven's  name  was  Paul- 
ette now?  The  awful,  sickening  thought 
made  me  so  wild  that  I  scrambled  to  my  knees 
to  find  out  in  what  ungodly  hole  I  had  been  put 
myself.  I  had  been  carried  somewhere,  and 
the  rock  under  me  felt  like  the  mine.  But 
somehow  the  darkness  round  me  did  not  smell 
like  a  mine,  where  men  worked  every  day.  It 
smelt  cold,  desolate,  abandoned,  like 

And  suddenly  I  knew  where  Macartney's 
men  had  carried  me  when  I  was  knocked  out! 
It  was  no  comfort  to  me  that  it  was  to  the  very 
place  where  I  had  meant  to  jail  Macartney 


Wolves — And  Dudley         217 

and  hide  Paulette,  where  Charliet  and  I  were 
to  have  stood  off  Macartney's  men. 

"  Thompson's  stope,"  I  gasped.  "  It's  there 
Macartney's  put  me!"  I  crawled,  sick  and 
dizzy,  to  what  ought  to  have  been  the  tunnel 
and  the  tunnel  entrance,  opening  on  the  storm 
out  of  doors.  The  tunnel  was  there,  all  right. 
But  as  I  fumbled  to  what  ought  to  have  been 
the  open  entrance,  stillness  met  me,  instead  of 
a  rush  of  wind;  piled  rock  met  my  groping 
hands,  instead  of  piled  snow.  I  was  in  Thomp- 
son's abandoned  stope  all  right, — only  Macart- 
ney had  sealed  up  the  only  way  I  could  ever 
get  out!  I  shoved,  and  dug,  and  battered,  as 
uselessly  as  a  rat  in  a  trap,  and  suddenly  knew 
that  was  just  what  I  was !  Macartney  had  not 
even  taken  the  trouble  to  kill  me, — not  to  avoid 
visible  murder  at  this  stage  of  the  game,  when 
only  the  enemy  was  left,  if  you  did  not  count  a 
duped  woman  and  a  captured  one ;  but  for  the 
sheer  pleasure  of  realizing  the  long,  slow  death 
that  must  get  me  in  the  end. 

"Die  here — I've  got  to  die  here,"  I  heard 
my  own  voice  in  my  ears.  "  While  —. —  My 
God,  Paulette!  Macartney's  got  Paulette!" 

And  in  the  darkness  behind  me  somebody 
slipped  on  a  stone. 

I  had  not  thought  I  could  ever  feel  light  and 
fierce  again.  I  was  both,  as  I  swung  round. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  PLACE  OF  DEPARTED  SPIRITS 

Every  man  carries  his  skull  under  his  face,  but 
God  alone  knows  the  marks  on  it. 

Indian  Proverb. 

FOR  a  man  moved,  silent  and  furtive,  in  the 
tunnel  between  me  and  the  stope! 

At  the  knowledge  something  flared  up  in 
me  that  had  been  pretty  well  burnt  out:  and 
that  was  Hope.  That  any  one  was  in  the  place 
showed  Macartney  had  either  put  a  guard  on 
me — which  meant  Thompson's  abandoned 
stope  was  not  sealed  so  mighty  securely  as  I 
thought — or  else  it  was  he  himself  facing  me  in 
the  dark,  and  I  might  get  even  with  him  yet. 
I  let  out  a  string  of  curses  at  him  on  the  chance. 
There  was  not  one  single  thing  he  had  done — 
to  me,  Paulette,  or  any  one  else — that  I  did  not 
put  a  name  to.  And  I  trusted  Macartney,  or 
any  man  he  had  left  in  the  ink-dark  stope, 
would  be  fool  enough  to  jump  at  me  for  what 
I  said. 


Place  of  Departed  Spirits      219 

But  no  one  jumped.  And  out  of  the  grave- 
yard blackness  in  front  of  me  came  a  muffled 
chuckle ! 

It  rooted  me  stone  still,  and  I  dare  swear  it 
would  have  you.  For  the  chuckle  was  Dunn's : 
Dunn's, — who  was  dead  and  buried,  and  Col- 
lins with  him!  But  suddenly  I  was  blazing 
angry,  for  the  chuckle  came  again,  and — dead 
man's  or  not — it  was  mocking!  I  jumped  to 
it  and  caught  a  live  throat,  hard.  But  before 
I  could  choke  the  breath  out  of  it  a  voice  that 
was  not  Dunn's  shouted  at  me:  "  Hold  your 
horses,  for  any  sake,  Stretton!  It's  us." 

A  match  rasped,  flared  in  my  eyes,  and  I  saw 
Dunn  and  Collins!  Saw  Dunn's  stubbly  fair 
hair,  clipped  close  till  it  stood  on  end,  as  it 
had  on  the  skull  I'd  said  a  prayer  over  and 
buried ;  saw  Collins  standing  on  the  long  shank 
bones  I  knew  I  had  buried  in  the  bush ! 

I  stared,  dazed,  facing  the  two  boys  I  could 
have  sworn  were  dead  and  buried.  And  in- 
stead Dunn  gasped  wheezingly  from  the  rock 
where  I  had  let  him  drop,  and  Collins  drawled 
as  if  we  had  met  yesterday: 

'  We  heard  we  were  dead !  But  it  wasn't 
us  you  buried,  or  any  of  Hutton's  men  either, 
for  he'd  have  missed  'em.  I  expect  you'd  bet- 
ter put  your  funeral  down  to  two  stray  pros- 
pectors, and  let  it  go  at  that!"  He  looked 
curiously  into  my  face.  "  You  don't  seem  to 


220    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

have  got  much  yourself  by  playing  the  giddy 
goat  with  Hutton! " 

In  the  dying  flicker  of  his  match  I  saw  his 
young,  sneering  eyes,  as  he  called  Macartney 
"  Hutton,"  and  realized  furiously  that  Paul- 
ette  had  been  right,  not  only  that  Dunn  and 
Collins  were  alive,  but  that  they  were  on  Ma- 
cartney's side.  I  blazed  out  at  the  two  of 
them: 

"  So  you've  been  in  with  Hutton  all  along, 
you  young  swine!  I've  been  a  blank  fool;  I 
ought  to  have  guessed  Hutton  had  bought 
you!" 

Dunn  let  out  a  sharp  oath,  but  Collins  only 
threw  down  the  glowing  end  of  his  match.  "  I 
wouldn't  say  we  were  on  Hutton's  pay  roll  ex- 
actly, since  you  seem  to  have  found  out  Ma- 
cartney's real  name  at  last,"  he  retorted  scorn- 
fully. "  We've  been  on  our  own,  ever  since  we 
saw  fit  to  disappear  and  bunk  in  here. 
Though  by  luck  Hutton  hasn't  guessed  it,  or 
we  wouldn't  be  here  now ! " 

"  I  don't  know  that  it's  any  too  clear  why 
you  are  here,"  I  flung  out  hotly.  "  D'ye 
mean  to  say  you've  been  living  here,  hiding, 
ever  since  you  cleared  out,  and  I  thought  the 
wolves  ate  you?  That  you  knew  all  along  who 
Macartney  was — and  never  told  me?  " 

"  Not  exactly  here,  if  you  mean  Thompson's 
old  stope  you're  corked  up  in;  but  of  course 


Place  of  Departed  Spirits      221 

we  knew  Macartney  was  Hutton,"  Collins  re- 
turned categorically.  "  As  for  telling  you 
about  him — well,  we  weren't  any  too  sure  you 
weren't  Hutton's  man  yourself  —  till  to- 
night!" 

"  What?  "  said  I. 

But  Collins  apologized  calmly.  "  We 
were  asses,  of  course ;  but  we  couldn't  tell  we'd 
made  a  mistake.  We  didn't  have  as  much 
fun  as  a  bag  of  monkeys  while  we  were  making 
it,  either,  especially  when  there  was  that — trou- 
ble— in  the  assay  office.  We  came  in  on  the 
tail-end  of  that,  only  we'd  no  guns,  and  it  was 
too  late  to  help  our  poor  chaps,  anyway.  Be- 
sides, we  thought  you "  but  he  checked 

abruptly.  "  It's  too  long  to  explain  in  this 
freezing  hole.  Let's  get  out!  You're  not 
corked  up  here  so  dead  tight  as  Hutton-Ma- 
cartney  thinks,"  and  in  the  dark  I  knew  he 
grinned.  "  Only  I  imagine  we'd  better  decide 
what  we're  going  to  do  before  he  discovers 
that!" 

"  Do?  I've  got  to  get  Paulette! "  But  I 
lurched  as  I  turned  back  to  the  blocked  tunnel 
entrance,  and  Collins  caught  me  bjr  the  shoul- 
der. 

"  You  can't  get  her,"  said  he  succinctly, 
"  unless  we  help  you!  Going  to  trust  us? " 

It  didn't  seem  to  me  that  I  had  any  choice; 
so  I  said  yes.  Then  I  gaped  like  a  fool.  Dunn 


222    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

and  Collins  had  me  by  the  arms  and  were 
marching  me  through  the  dark,  not  toward 
the  tunnel  where  I'd  been  slung  in,  but  back 
through  Thompson's  black,  abandoned  stope, 
as  if  it  had  been  Broadway,  till  the  side  wall  of 
it  brought  us  up.  "  Over  you  go,"  said  Collins 
gruffly.  He  gave  me  a  boost  against  the 
smooth  wall  of  the  stope,  and  my  clawing  fin- 
gers caught  on  the  edge  of  a  sharp  shelf  of 
stone.  I  swung  myself  up  on  it,  mechanically, 
and  felt  my  feet  go  through  the  solid  stope 
wall,  into  space.  There  was  an  opening  in  the 
living  rock,  and  as  Collins  lit  another  match 
where  he  stood  below  me,  I  saw  it :  a  practicable 
manhole,  slanting  down  behind  my  shelf  so 
sharply  that  it  must  have  been  invisible  from 
Thompson's  stope,  even  in  candlelight.  Col- 
lins and  Dunn  swarmed  up  beside  me,  and  the 
next  second  we  all  three  slid  through  the  black 
slit  behind  our  ledge,  and  out — somewhere  else. 
Collins  lit  a  candle-end,  and  I  saw  we  were  in  a 
second  tunnel,  a  remarkably  amateur,  unsafe 
tunnel,  too,  if  I'd  been  worrying  about  trifles, 
but  not  Thompson's! 

The  thing  made  me  start,  and  Collins 
grinned.  "  More  convenient  exit  than  old 
Thompson's,  only  we  don't  live  here !  If  you'll 
come  on  you'll  see."  He  and  his  candle  disap- 
peared round  a  loose  looking  boulder  into  a 
dark  hole  in  the  tunnel  side,  and  his  voice  con- 


Place  of  Departed  Spirits      223 

tinued  blandly  as  I  stumbled  after.  "  Natural 
cave,  this  tunnel  was,  when  we  found  it;  this 
second  cave  leading  out  of  it;  and  a  passage 
from  here  to — outside ! "  He  waved  his  hand 
around  as  I  stood  dumb.  "  Our  little  country 
home!" 

What  I  saw  was  a  small  round  cave,  the 
glow  of  a  fire  under  a  shaft  that  led  all  betray- 
ing smoke  heaven  knew  where  into  the  side  of 
the  hill,  and  two  spruce  beds  with  blankets. 
The  permanent  look  of  the  place  was  the  last 
straw  on  my  own  blind  idiocy  of  never  suspect- 
ing Macartney,  and  I  burst  out,  "  Why  the 
deuce,  with  all  you  knew,  couldn't  you  have 
brought  Paulette  here  and  hidden  her?  " 

"  Charliet  said  we  should  have."  Collins 
nodded  when  I  stared.  "  Oh,  yes,  there's 
more  to  that  French  Canadian  than  just  cook! 
He's  been  in  the  know  about  us  here  all  this 
time,  or  we'd  have  been  in  a  nice  hole  for  grub. 
Mind,  I  don't  say  he's  brave " 

"  He  was  under  his  bed  when  I  wanted  him 
to-night,"  I  agreed  with  some  bitterness. 

"Was  he?"  Collins  exclaimed  electrically. 
"  He  was  here,  giving  us  the  office  about  you! 
He  tore  down  and  told  us  you'd  got  Hutton, 
and  we'd  better  light  out  and  help  you:  but 
when  we  turned  out  it  looked  more  as  if  Hut- 
ton  had  got  you!  When  you  and  Miss  Paul- 
ette rushed  out  of  the  kitchen  door  you  must 


224  The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery- 
have  run  straight  into  an  ambush  of  his  men, 
and  I  guess  one  of  them  landed  you  a  swipe  on 
the  head.  Anyhow,  Dunn  and  I  met  a  pro- 
cession with  you  frog-marched  in  the  middle  of 
it,  that  was  more  than  we  could  manage  without 
guns.  So  we  kind  of  retired  and  let  the  men 
cork  you  into  Thompson's  stope  to  die.  And 
you  bet  they  did  it.  Not  six  of  us  could  have 
got  you  out,  ever,  if  we  hadn't  known  a  private 
way." 

I  cursed  him.  "  My  God,  stop  talking! 
It's  not  me  I  want  to  hear  about.  Where  was 
Paulette?  D'ye  mean  you  followed  me  and 
left  her — left  a  girl — to  Macartney?  I — I've 
got  to  go  for  her!  " 

But  Collins  caught  me  as  I  turned.  "  Ma- 
cartney hadn't  got  her — she  wasn't  there !  We 
hoofed  Charliet  off  to  find  her,  first  thing ;  he'll 
bring  her  here,  as  soon  as  it's  safe  to  make  a 
get-away.  We'd  have  brought  her  ourselves, 
only  the  show  would  have  been  spoiled  if  Hut- 
ton  had  spotted  us.  And  we  had  to  hustle,  too, 
to  get  back  here  and  waltz  you  out  of  Thomp- 
son's mausoleum.  It'll  be  time  enough  for  you 
to  go  for  Miss  Paulette  when  she  doesn't  turn 
up.  You're  not  fit  now,  anyway."  I  felt  him 
staring  into  my  face.  "  Had  anything  to  eat 
all  day,  except  a  hard  ride  and  a  fight?  "  he  de- 
manded irrelevantly,  in  a  voice  that  sounded 
oddly  far  off. 


Place  of  Departed  Spirits      225 

I  shook  my  head;  and  the  smell  of  coffee 
smote  my  famished  nostrils  as  he  took  a  tin  pot 
off  the  fire.  I  knew  how  nearly  I  had  been 
done  when  the  scalding  stuff  picked  me  up  like 
brandy.  But — "  You're  sure  about  Paul- 
ette?  "  I  gasped.  "  Remember,  Macartney  was 
bound  to  get  her!  " 

"  Well,  he  didn't,"  Collins  returned  com- 
posedly. "  I  bet  he's  looking  for  her  right 
now,  and  I'm  dead  sure  he  won't  find  her. 
Charliet  wasn't  bom  yesterday:  he'll  bring  her 
here  all  right." 

"  I'll  wait  ten  minutes,"  I  gave  in  abruptly, 
and  because  I  knew  I  couldn't  do  anything 
else  till  I  had  filled  my  empty  stomach.  But 
there  was  something  I  wanted  to  know. 
'  What  did  you  mean,  just  now,  about  not  be- 
ing sure  of  me — with  Hutton?  " 

Dunn  spoke  up  for  the  first  time.  "  It  was 
Miss  Paulette ;  we  thought  it  was  you  we  heard 
her  talking  to,  two  nights  in  the  dark.  So 
when  she  drove  off  to  Caraquet  with  you  and 
the  gold,  after  we'd  heard  her  say  she  couldn't 
trust  you — at  least,  the  man  we  thought  was 
you — we  didn't  know  whether  you  were  in  with 
Hutton  or  not,  or  what  kind  of  a  game  you 
were  playing." 

"  Me? "  I  swore  blankly.  "  I  suppose  it 
never  struck  you  that  7  believed  the  man  play- 
ing the  game  was  Collins — till  you  both  dis- 


226    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

appeared,  and  I  decided  it  must  be  some  one 
who  never  was  employed  around  this  mine!  " 

'  Well,  I'm  hanged,"  said  Collins,  and 
suddenly  knocked  the  wits  out  of  me  by  mut- 
tering that  at  least  we'd  both  had  sense  enough 
to  know  that  Miss  Valenka  was  square. 

*  Valenka?  D'ye  mean  you  knew  who  she 
was,  too? "  I  stuttered. 

"  Dunn  did,"  Collins  nodded.  "  I  only  knew 
Hutton.  But  I  knew  more  than  my  prayers 
about  him,  and  Dunn  told  me  about  the  girl. 
So  we  sort  of  kept  guard  for  her  and  watched 
you  and  Hutton — till  the  day  we  had  the  row 
with  him." 

"  In  the  mine !  He  told  me."  Only  half  of 
me  heard  him.  The  rest  was  listening  for  the 
sound  of  footsteps.  But  the  place  was  still. 

"  In  Thompson's  stope,"  Collins  corrected 
drily.  "  You  see,  we  thought  you  and  Ma- 
cartney-Hutton  were  working  together,  and  we 
didn't  see  our  way  to  tackling  the  two  of  you  at 
once.  So  when  you  went  off  to  Caraquet  with 
Miss  Paulette,  we  thought  we'd  get  Hutton 
cleared  out  of  this  before  you  got  back  again. 
We  kind  of  let  him  see  us  leave  work  in  the 
mine  and  sneak  into  the  old  stope.  When  he 
came  after  us,  we  dropped  on  him  with  what 
we  knew  about  him ;  and  between  us  we  knew  a 
deal.  We  gave  him  his  choice  about  leaving 
the  neighborhood  that  minute,  or  our  going 


Place  of  Departed  Spirits      227 

straight  to  Wilbraham  and  telling  who  he  was 
and  what  he  was  there  for — which  was  where 
we  slipped  up !  He'd  the  gall  to  tell  us  to  our 
faces  that  we'd  no  pull  over  him,  because  we 
were  doing  private  work  in  Thompson's  stope 
and  stealing  Wilbraham's  gold  out  of  it.  And 
— that  rather  gave  us  the  check." 

"  But — why?  There  wasn't  six  cents'  worth 
of  gold  there  to  steal !  " 

Collins  smiled  with  shameless  simplicity. 
"  I  know.  But  stealing  gold  was  exactly  what 
we  were  doing,  only  it  wasn't  in  Thompson's 
old  stope.  We'd  have  been  caught  with  the 
goods  on  us  though,  if  any  one  had  fussed 
round  there  to  investigate.  We  found  our 
way  in  here,"  he  jerked  his  head  toward  his 
amateur  tunnel,  "  by  accident,  in  Thompson's 
time,  one  day  when  the  stope  happened  to  be 
empty ;  and  we  burrowed  on  to  what  looked  like 
the  anticlinal,  before  we  heard  the  stope  shift 
coming  and  had  to  slide  out.  But  we'd  seen 
enough  to  keep  us  burrowing.  We  couldn't 
do  much,  even  after  Hutton  ran  the  other  tun- 
nel half  a  mile  down  the  cliff  and  caught  gold 
there;  but  we  kind  of  slipped  in,  evenings, 
when  you  missed  us  out  of  the  bunk  house  " — 
he  grinned  again — "  and  got  the  bearings  of 
that  vein.  And  you  bet  we  had  to  find  a  way 
to  stay  with  it;  it  was  too  good  to  leave!  We 
weren't  going  to  work  in  Wilbraham's  mine 


228    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

just  for  our  health  and  days'  wages,  when  we'd 
struck  our  own  gold.  So  we  reckoned  we'd 
just — disappear.  But  we  didn't  get  out  as 
sharp  as  we  did  simply  on  account  of  our  own 
private  affairs.  Macartney-Hutton  drew  a 
gun  the  day  we  had  the  row  he  lied  to  you 
about,  and  I  guess  we  just  legged  it  out  of 
Thompson's  stope — by  the  front  way ! — in  time 
to  make  the  bush  with  our  lives  on  us.  Ma- 
cartney thought  he'd  scared  us,  and  we'd  lit  for 
Caraquet;  but  we  lit  back  again  after  dark. 
We  crawled  in  here  by  our  back  entrance  you 
haven't  seen  yet,  and  here  we've  been  ever 
since!  We  didn't  confide  in  you,  because  you 
seemed  pretty  thick  with  Macartney,  if  you 
come  to  think  of  it ;  and  it  seemed  a  hefty  kind 
of  a  lie,  too,  when  you  told  Charliet  you'd 
buried  us.  I  rather  think  that's  all,  till  to- 
night   "  his  indifferent  drawl  stopped  as  if 

it  were  cut  off  with  a  knife.  "  My  God,  S tret- 
ton,"  he  jerked,  "I'd  forgotten!  Was  it 
true — what  Charliet  told  us  to-night — about 
Dudley  Wilbraham?" 

I  was  eating  stuff  the  silent  Dunn  had  sup- 
plied, but  I  put  the  meat  down.  '  Wilbra- 
ham's  killed,"  I  heard  my  own  voice  say;  and 
then  told  the  rest  of  it.  How  Paulette  had 
found  Dudley's  chewed,  wolf-doped  cap,  and 
Marcia  had  found  Dudley,  silent  in  the  silent 
bush,  where  the  last  wolf  was  sneaking  away. 


Place  of  Departed  Spirits      229 

I  would  not  have  known  Collins's  face  as  he 
asked  what  I  meant  about  wolf  dope  now  and 
when  I  thought  I  was  swearing  at  Macartney 
in  Thompson's  stope. 

I  told  him,  with  my  ears  straining  for  Char- 
liet  and  a  girl  creeping  to  us,  through  Collins's 
back  way  out.  But  all  I  heard  was  silence, — 
that  thick,  underground  silence  that  fills  the 
ears  like  wool.  I  had  said  I  would  wait  ten 
minutes,  and  nine  of  them  were  gone.  I  don't 
think  I  spoke.  Dunn  muttered  suddenly, 
"  They're  not  coming!  " 

Collins  shook  his  head  and  coldly  cursed  him- 
self and  me  for  two  fools  who  had  lain  low, 
when  out  in  the  open  together  we  could  have 
stopped  Macartney  from  getting  Dudley,  if 
we  couldn't  have  helped  old  Thompson.  He 
never  mentioned  Paulette,  or  his  trusted  cook. 
But  he  rose,  lit  a  second  candle,  and  led  the 
way  out  of  his  warm  burrow  by  a  dark  hole 
opposite  the  one  we  had  entered  by,  and  into 
a  cramped  alley  where  we  had  to  walk  bent 
double.  It  felt  as  if  it  ran  a  mile  before  it 
turned  in  a  sharp  right  angle.  Collins  pinched 
out  his  light  and  turned  on  me.  "Just  what — 
are  you  going  to  do?  " 

"  Get  Paulette,"  said  I. 

"  M-m,"  said  Collins.  "  Well,  here's  where 
we  start.  Get  hold  of  my  heels  when  I  lie 
down  and  don't  crowd  me."  And  that  was 


230    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

every  word  that  came  out  of  either  of  us  as  we 
dropped  flat,  and  wormed  head-first  down  a 
slope  of  smooth  stone  till  cold,  fresh  air 
abruptly  smote  my  face.  In  front  of  us  was 
an  opening,  out  of  the  bowels  of  the  hill,  into 
the  night  and  the  snow.  Rooted  juniper  hung 
down  over  it  in  an  impervious  curtain,  as  it 
hung  everywhere  from  the  rocks  at  La  Chance. 
Collins  pushed  it  aside,  and  the  two  of  us  were 
out — out  of  Thompson's  stope,  where  Macart- 
ney had  meant  me  to  lie  till  I  died! 


CHAPTER  XVI 

IN  COLLINS 'S  CARE 

FOR  two  breaths  I  did  not  know  where  I  was. 
It  was  still  snowing,  and  the  night  was  wild, 
such  a  night  as  we  might  not  have  again  for 
weeks.  Any  one  could  move  in  it  as  securely  as 
behind  a  curtain,  for  I  could  not  see  a  yard  be- 
fore my  face,  and  not  a  track  could  lie  five 
minutes.  But  suddenly  the  familiarity  of  the 
place  hit  me,  till  I  could  have  laughed  out,  if  I 
had  been  there  on  any  other  business.  Collins's 
long  passage  had  wormed  behind  Thompson's 
stope,  behind  the  La  Chance  stables;  and  it 
was  no  wonder  he  had  found  it  easy  enough  to 
get  supplies  from  Charliet.  All  he  had  to  do 
was  to  cross  the  clearing  from  the  jutting  rock 
that  shielded  his  private  entrance  and  walk  into 
Charliet's  kitchen  door.  I  moved  toward  it, 
and  Collins  grabbed  at  me  through  the  smoth- 
ering snow. 

"  Hang  on — you  don't  know  who's  there ! 
Wait  till  I  ring  up  Charliet,  number  one 
Wolf!  "  He  stood  back  from  me,  and  far,  far 
off,  with  a  perfect  illusion  of  distance  broken  by 


232    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

the  wind,  I  heard  a  wolf  howl,  once,  and  then 
twice  again.  If  he  had  not  stood  beside  me,  I 
could  not  have  believed  the  cry  came  from 
Collins's  throat.  But,  remembering  Dudley, 
it  had  an  ill-omened  sound  to  me. 

"  Shut  up  1 "  I  breathed  sharply. 

Collins  might  have  remembered  Dudley  too. 
"  I  wasn't  going  to  do  it  again,"  he  muttered, 
"  but  I've  had  to  use  it  for  a  signal.  It's  been 
a  fashionable  kind  of  a  sound  around  here,  if  I 
hadn't  sense  enough  to  know  Macartney 
brought  the  beasts  that  made  it.  But  Charliet 

knows  my  howl.  He'll  come  out,  if  he's 

Drop,  quick! " 

But  both  of  us  had  dropped  already.  Some 
one  had  flung  open  the  kitchen  door  and  fired 
a  charge  of  buckshot  out  into  the  night.  I 
heard  it  scatter  over  my  head,  and  a  burst  of 
uproar  on  its  heels  told  me  Charliet's  kitchen 
was  crowded  with  Macartney's  men.  Some- 
body— not  Charliet — shouted  over  the  noise, 
"  What  the  devil's  that  for? "  And  another 
voice  yelled  something  about  wolves  and  firing 
to  scare  them. 

;<  The  boss'll  scare  you — if  you  get  to  firing 
guns  this  night,"  the  first  voice  swore;  and  a 
man  laughed,  insolently.  Then  the  kitchen 
door  banged,  and  Collins  sprang  up  electric- 
ally. 

"  I  don't  like  this  one  bit,"  he  muttered. 


In  Collins's  Care  233 

"  Macartney's  not  in  the  house,  or  his  men 
wouldn't  dare  be  yelling  like  that;  and  Char- 
liet's  not  there,  either,  or  he'd  have  been  out. 
That  devil  must  have  got  him  somewhere — him 
and  Miss  Paulette!  Can't  you  see  there's  not 
a  light  in  the  shack,  bar  the  kitchen  one? 
Come  on ! " 

But  I  was  gone  already,  around  the  corner 
of  the  shack  to  Paulette's  side  of  it,  and  I  knew 
better.  There  was  a  light — in  Paulette's 
room — shining  through  a  hole  in  the  heavy 
wooden  shutters  she  had  had  made  for  her 
window,  long  before  I  guessed  why  she  wanted 
them  and  their  bars.  It  ran  through  me  like 
fire  that  Macartney  was  in  that  room,  deaf  to 
any  kind  of  yells  from  the  kitchen,  to  every- 
thing but  Paulette's  voice;  and  nobody  but  a 
man  who  has  had  to  think  it  can  guess  what 
that  thought  was  like  to  me,  out  there  in  the 
snow.  I  made  for  my  own  window,  but  it  was 
lockcrl;  and  God  knew  who  might  be  watching 
me  out  of  it,  as  I  had  watched  Macartney  one 
night,  before  I  knew  he  was  Hutton.  I 
thought:  "  By  gad,  Nick  Stretton,  you'll  go 
in  the  front  door !  "  For  that — with  me  shut 
up  to  die  in  Thompson's  stope,  and  not  one 
other  soul  alive  to  interfere  with  him — was  the 
last  thing  Macartney  would  think  to  lock! 
Nor  had  he.  The  latch  lifted  just  as  usual, 
and  I  walked  in. 


234    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

The  long  passage  through  the  shack  was 
dark ;  and,  after  the  storm  outside,  dead  silent. 
It  was  empty,  too,  as  the  living  room  was 
empty;  but  what  I  thought  of  was  my  dream 
girl's  door.  That  was  open  a  foot-wide  space, 
and  somebody  inside  it  sobbed  sickeningly. 
But  if  Macartney  were  there  he  was  not  speak- 
ing. I  daresay  I  forgot  I  had  no  gun  to  kill 
him  with.  I  crept  forward  in  the  soundless 
moccasins  I  had  reason  to  thank  heaven  were 
my  only  wear  and  suddenly  felt  Collins  beside 
me,  in  his  stocking  feet. 

"Hang  on,"  he  breathed;  "I  tell  you  he 
isn't  there !  If  he  were,  you  couldn't  get  him. 
One  shout,  and  he'd  have  the  whole  gang  out 
on  us ! " 

I  knew  afterwards  that  he'd  stubbed  his  toe 
on  Marcia  Wilbraham's  little  revolver  she'd 
dropped  on  the  passage  floor,  and  was  ready 
to  keep  my  back  if  the  gang  did  come;  but 
then  I  hardly  heard  him.  I  stood  rooted  at 
Paulette's  door,  staring  in;  for  Paulette  was 
not  there — Macartney  was  not  there!  What  I 
saw  was  Marcia  Wilbraham  with  her  back  to 
me,  crying  hysterically,  as  I  might  have  known 
Paulette  would  never  cry,  and  flinging  out  of 
a  trunk,  as  if  Paulette  were  dead  or  gone,  every 
poor  little  bit  of  clothes  and  oddments  that 
were  my  dream  girl's  own ! 

I  can't  write  what  that  made  me  feel.    Rib- 


In  Collins's  Care  235 

bons,  bits  of  laces,  little  blue  stockings,  shoes, 
grew  into  a  heap.  And  I  would  have  been  fool 
enough  to  jump  in  on  Marcia  and  shake  out 
of  her  how  she  dared  to  touch  them,  whether 
Paulette  were  dead  or  alive,  if  Collins  had  not 
gripped  me  hard. 

"The  emeralds,"  he  muttered.  "She's 
rooting  for  them! " 

I  had  pretty  well  forgotten  there  ever  were 
any  emeralds,  and  I  stared  at  him  like  a  fool. 

'  Van  Ruyne's  emeralds — she  thinks  Miss 
Paulette  has  'em,"  Collins's  lips  explained 
soundlessly.  "And  they're  round  Macart- 
ney's own  neck — I  saw  them!  Dunn  and  I 
were  going  to  swipe  them,  only  we  couldn't." 

I  damned  the  emeralds.  What  I  wanted  of 
Marcia  was  to  find  out  what  had  become  of 
Paulette.  But  Collins  gripped  me  harder. 
"  Let  her  see  you,  and  you'll  never  know,"  he 
breathed  fiercely.  "  She'd  give  one  yell,  and 
we'd  be  done.  Macartney's  either  got  the  girl 
and  Charliet,  or  they're  lost  in  the  snow  and 
he's  hunting  for  them.  Let's  get  some  guns 
and  go  see  which;  we're  crazy  to  stay  here! " 

I  nodded  mechanically.  I  knew  what  it 
meant  for  a  girl  to  be  lost  in  the  snow  on  such 
a  night  as  I  had  just  closed  the  shack  door  on, 
even  with  Charliet  beside  her;  how  Collins  and 
I  might  tramp,  search — yes,  and  call,  too — 
uselessty,  beside  the  very  drift  where  she  lay 


236    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

smothered.  And  then  I  realized  I  was  a  fool. 
Macartney  would  not  give  Paulette  a  chance  to 
get  lost.  He  had  her  somewhere,  her  and 
Charliet,  and  Collins  and  I  had  to  take  her 
from  him.  But  something  inexplicable  stopped 
me  dead  as  I  turned  for  the  shack  door. 
Macartney  had  never  been  a  winter  at  La 
Chance;  he  had  no  snowshoes.  Charliet  had 
some,  I  didn't  know  where.  But  I  had  two 
pairs  in  my  own  room.  That  inexplicable 
suggestion  told  me  I  needed  them  badly, 
though  I  knew  it  was  silly;  if  Macartney  had 
Paulette  he  would  not  be  marching  her  through 
the  snow.  All  the  places  I  had  to  search  for 
her  were  the  stable  and  the  assay  office.  And 

yet I  backed  Collins  noiselessly  past  the 

room  where  Marcia  was  still  pulling  round 
Paillette's  trunk,  with  a  noise  that  covered  any 
we  could  make,  and  the  two  of  us  ended  up  in 
my  room  in  the  black  dark.  I  stood  Collins  at 
the  door  while  I  felt  for  my  snowshoes.  I  knew 
it  was  crazy,  and  I  was  just  obsessed,  but  I 
got  them.  I  didn't  get  much  else.  I  couldn't 
find  my  rifle  I  had  hoped  for,  and  only  a  couple 
of  boxes  of  revolver  cartridges  were  in  my 
open  trunk, — that  I  guessed  Marcia  had  gone 
through  too.  I  would  have  felt  like  wringing 
her  neck,  if  it  had  not  been  for  Paulette  and 
Macartney.  I  had  no  room  for  outside  emo- 
tions till  I  knew  about  those  two.  I  slid  back 


In  Collins's  Care  237 

to  my  doorway  to  get  Collins,  and  he  was  gone. 
Where  to,  I  had  no  earthly  idea.  I  looked  to 
see  if  he  had  been  cracked  enough  to  tackle 
Marcia,  and  Marcia  was  alone  on  her  knees, 
chucking  all  Paulette's  things  back  into  her 
trunk  again.  The  place  suddenly  felt  dead 
quiet.  Marcia  had  stopped  sobbing,  and  I 
believe  she  would  have  heard  a  mouse  move, — 
there  was  that  kind  of  a  listening  look  about 
her.  And  it  was  that  minute — that  unsuitable, 
inimical  minute — that  /  heard  some  one  move  I 
Outside,  on  the  doorstep,  somebody  stumbled. 
The  latch  lifted,  the  door  swung  in, — and  I 
jumped  to  meet  Macartney  with  not  one  thing 
on  me  but  some  fool  snowshoes  and  a  pocketful 
of  useless  cartridges.  But  I  brought  up  dead 
still,  and  rigid. 

"  Charliet — oh,  Charliet,  come  quick" 
whispered  Paulette.  She  was  snow  from  head 
to  foot  where  she  stood  in  the  shack  door.  "  I 

couldn't  find '  But  she  recoiled  as  she 

saw  me,  against  the  light  Marcia  had  burning 
inside  her  own  half-open  door.  "  Oh,  my 
God,  Nicky! "  she  cried  in  a  voice  that  brought 
my  soul  alive,  that  fool's  soul  that  had  lost  her. 
She  caught  at  me  like  a  child,  incredulously, 
wildly.  "Oh,  Nicky!" 

There  was  no  time  to  ask  where  she'd  been, 
nor  even  of  Macartney.  I  think  the  unsuitable 
thing  I  said  was  "  Marcia ! "  For  I  heard 


238    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

Marcia  jump  and  fall  over  Paulette's  open 
trunk,  before  she  was  out  of  her  door  like  one 
of  the  wolves  Macartney  was  so  fond  of.  .1 
didn't  think  she  saw  us,  but  she  did  see  Collins. 
The  thing  that  cut  her  off  was  his  rush  out  of 
somewhere.  I  heard  her  scream  with  furious 
terror ;  heard  Paulette's  door  bang  on  her ;  and 
Collins  was  beside  me  with  a  rifle  and  some 
dunnage  I  scarcely  saw  in  the  sudden  dark  of 
the  passage  after  that  banged  door. 

"  Run,"  said  he,  through  his  teeth.  "  Gimme 
that  stuff!  Run!"  he  stuffed  my  snowshoes 
under  the  arm  that  held  the  rifle.  "  No,  not 
that  way!  This  way."  He  cut  across  the 
clearing  in  the  opposite  direction  from  the  hole 
that  led  to  his  underground  den,  and  it  was 
time.  Half  of  Macartney's  men  were  tearing 
through  the  passage  toward  Marcia's  screams, 
and  the  rest  were  pouring  out  of  the  kitchen 
door.  In  the  storm  we  could  only  hear  them. 
I  was  carrying  Paulette  like  a  baby,  and  with 
her  head  against  me  I  could  not  see  her  face. 
All  I  could  see  was  swirling,  stinging  snow  in 
my  eyes,  and  the  sudden  dark  of  the  bush  we 
brought  up  in.  I  kept  along  the  edge  of  it, 
circling  the  clearing,  and  all  but  fell  over  the 
end  of  Collins's  jutting  rock.  And  this  time 
I  thanked  God  for  the  furious  snow;  in  ten 
minutes  there  would  be  no  sign  of  our  tracks 
from  the  front  door  to  the  hold  the  rock 


In  Collins's  Care  239 

shielded,  and  there  was  no  earthly  chance  of 
Macartney's  men  picking  them  up  before  we 
were  safe. 

It  felt  like  years  before  the  three  of  us  were 
inside  the  curtain  of  juniper,  swarming  up  the 
smooth  rock  face,  but  Collins  observed  con- 
trarily  that  he'd  never  done  it  so  quickly.  He 
led  the  way  up  to  the  passage  angle  where  he 
had  pinched  out  his  light,  put  down  the  snow- 
shoes  and  the  rifle,  laid  something  else  on  the 
ground  with  remarkable  caution,  and  walked 
on  some  feet  before  he  lit  his  candle. 

"  Better  travel  light  and  get  home.  Dunn 
and  I'll  come  back  presently  and  bring  up  the 
dunnage,"  he  observed  as  blandly  as  if  the 
three  of  us  had  been  for  an  evening  stroll,  and 
suddenly  laughed  as  he  saw  me  glance  at  his 
stockinged  feet.  "  By  golly,  I've  left  my  boots 
in  the  shack,  and  I  haven't  any  others — but  it 
was  worth  a  pair  of  boots !  I  stubbed  my  toe 
on  Miss  Wilbraham's  little  revolver  she  must 
have  dropped  on  the  passage  floor,  and  I've  got 
it.  Also,  let  alone  her  lost  toy-dog  gun,  I  got 
all  her  ammunition  and  her  rifle,  while  she  was 
grabbing  in  Miss  Paulette's  trunk. 

"  'Taffy  went  to  my  house, 
Thought  I  was  asleep. 
I  went  to  Taffy's  house, 
And  stole  a  side  of  beef 

— as  I  learned  when  I  was  young.     Come  on, 


240    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

Stretton ;  I  bet  we'll  be  top-sides  with  Macart- 
ney-Hutton  yet ! " 

"  He's  out,  looking  for  me '  but  Paul- 

ette's  sentence  broke  in  a  gasp.  '  Why,  it's 
Collins ! "  She  stared  incredulously  in  the 
candlelight. 

"Just  that,"  imperturbably.  "  Stretton  can 
tell  you  all  about  me  presently,  Miss  Paulette. 
For  now  I  imagine  you'd  sooner  see  a  fire  and 
something  to  eat.  Put  her  in  between  us, 
Stretton,  Indian  file,  and  we'll  take  her  down.'* 

Women  are  queer  things.  Tatiana  Paulina 
Valenka  had  tramped  the  bush  most  of  the  day 
before  looking  for  a  dead  man,  had  found 
him — a  sight  no  girl  should  have  looked  on; 
had  run  for  more  than  her  life  with  me,  and 
been  through  God  knew  what  since;  and  she 
walked  down  that  unknown,  dark  passage  with 
Collins  and  me  as  if  nothing  had  ever  happened 
to  her.  She  greeted  Dunn,  too;  and  then,  as 
he  and  Collins  disappeared  to  fetch  down  our 
snowshoes  and  rifle,  went  straight  to  pieces 
where  she  and  I  stood  safe  by  their  fire.  "  Oh, 
oh,  oh,  I  thought  you  were  dead!  I  saw  them 

get  you.  I  can't  believe — can't  believe " 

she  gasped  out  in  jerks,  as  if  she  fought  for  her 

very  breath,  and  suddenly  dropped  flat  on 

Dunn's    old    blanket.      "Oh,    Nicky,"    she 

moaned,  "  don't  let  me  faint — now.    Nicky! " 

There  was  something  in  her  voice — I  don't 


In  Collins*s  Care  241 

know — but  it  made  me  dizzy  with  sheer,  clear 
joy.  She  had  said  my  name  as  if  I  were  the 
one  man  in  the  world  for  her,  as  if  I  had  risen 
from  the  dead.  But  I  dared  not  say  so.  I 
knew  better  than  even  to  lift  her  head  where 
she  lay  with  closed  eyes  on  Dunn's  blanket, 
but  I  got  Collins's  old  tin  cup  to  her  lips  some- 
how and  made  her  drink  his  strong  coffee  till  it 
set  her  blood  running,  as  it  had  set  mine.  After 
a  minute  she  sat  up  dizzily,  but  she  pushed 
away  my  bread  and  meat.  "  Presently — I'd 
be  sick  now,"  she  whispered,  "  How  did  you 
get — out  of  Thompson's  stope?  And  where — 
I  mean  I  can't  understand,  about  Collins  and 
Dunn!" 

"  They  got  me  out,"  said  I,  and  explained 
about  them.  But  there  was  no  particular  sur- 
prise on  Paulette's  face.  She  never  made  an 
earthly  comment,  either,  when  I  told  her  they'd 
always  known  all  about  her  and  Hutton,  ex- 
cept, "  I  never  thought  they  were  dead;  I  told 
you  that.  I'd  an  idea,  too,  that  Charliet 
didn't  think  so  either." 

I  had  one  arm  round  her  by  that  time, 
feeding  her  with  my  other  hand  like  a  child, 
with  bits  of  bread  soaked  in  black  coffee.  If 
I  had  any  thoughts  they  were  only  fear  that 
she  might  move  from  me  as  soon  as  sKe  really 
came  to  herself.  But  Charliet's  name  brought 
me  back  from  what  was  next  door  to  heaven. 


242    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

"  Charliet,"  said  I  blankly;  "where  in  the 
world  is  he?  D'ye  mean  he  hadn't  told  you 
about  Collins  and  Dunn?  Why,  he  was  to 
bring  you  to  them — here — hours  ago !  " 

"  Charliet  was?  But "  Suddenly,  be- 
yond belief,  my  dream  girl  turned  and  clung 
to  me.  God  knows  I  knelt  like  a  statue.  I 
was  afraid  to  stir.  It  was  Dudley  she  loved: 
I  was  only  a  man  who  was  trusted  and  a  friend. 
"  Oh,  Nicky,  you  don't  know,"  she  cried,  "  you 
don't  know!  You  and  I  ran  straight  into 
some  of  Dick  Hutton's  men  when  we  raced 
out  of  the  shack.  And  you  threw  me — just 
picked  me  up  like  a  puppy  and  threw  me — out 
of  their  way,  into  the  deep  snow.  I  heard 
them  get  you,  but  I  was  half  smothered;  I 
couldn't  either  see  or  speak.  But  I  heard  Dick 
shout  from  somewhere  to  '  chuck  Stretton  into 
Thompson's  old  stope ! '  I  thought  it  meant 
they'd  killed  you ;  that  it  was  another  man  I'd 
let — be  murdered !  " 

She  caught  her  breath  as  if  something 
stabbed  her,  and  I  know  it  stabbed  me  to  think 
I  was  just  "  another  man  "  to  her.  But  I 
knelt  steady.  I  had  been  a  fool  to  think  it 
was  I  she  cared  for,  personally,  and  whether 
she  did  or  not  she  needed  my  arm.  '  Well?  " 
I  asked.  "  Next?  " 

"  I  was  scrambling  out  of  the  snow,"  I  felt 
her  shiver  against  me,  "  only  before  I  could 


In  Collins's  Care  243 

stand  up  Charliet  raced  up  from  somewhere 
and  shoved  me  straight  down  in  the  drift 
again.  He  said  Dick  was  looking  for  me,  ahd 
to  lie  still,  while  he  got  him  away ;  then  to  race 
for  the  shack  and  hide  just  outside  the  front 
door,  till  he  came  for  me — but  before  he  could 
finish  Dick  ran  down  on  the  two  of  us,  with  a 
lantern.  He'd  have  fallen  over  me,  if  Charliet 
hadn't  stopped  him  by  yelling  that  I'd  run  for 
the  bush.  I  think  he  grabbed  the  lantern — but 
anyhow,  they  both  tore  off.  I  got  to  the 
shack,  but —  Oh,  Nicky,  I  couldn't  wait 
there.  I ' 

"  Well? "  It  seemed  to  be  the  only  word  in 
my  brain. 

"  I  went  down  to  Thompson's  stope.  But 
I  was  too  late.  The  men  had  walled  you  in 
with  rocks,  and  I  couldn't  move  them.  I 
tried!"  (I  thought  she  must  hear  the  leap 
my  heart  gave.  I  know  I  shut  my  jaws  to 
keep  my  tongue  between  my  teeth  at  the 
thought  of  her  trying  to  dig  her  way  in  to  me, 
the  only  friend  she  had  in  the  world  except  a 

French-Canadian  cook.)  "I Oh,  I 

thought  if  I  could  find  Charliet  we  might  do 
something!  I  went  back  to  look  for  him,  and  I 

found  you Oh,  I  found  you ! "  Her  arms 

were  still  on  my  shoulders  as  I  knelt  by  her, 

and  suddenly  her  voice  turned  low  and  anxious. 

'  What  do  you  suppose  became  of  Charliet? 


244    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

He's  so  faithful.    We  can't  leave  him  for  Dick 
to  turn  on  when  he  can't  find  me !  " 

I  was  not  thinking  of  Charliet.  I  couldn't 
honestly  care  what  had  become  of  him,  with  my  - 
dream  girl  in  my  arms.  I  may  as  well  tell  the 
truth;  I  forgot  Dudley,  too.  I  don't  know 
what  mad  words  would  have  come  out  of  my 
mouth  if  Paulette  had  not  pushed  me  away 
violently.  What  was  left  of  her  coffee  upset; 
I  got  to  my  feet  with  the  empty  cup  in  my 
hand,  just  as  Collins  and  Dunn  and  their 
candle  emerged  round  the  boulder.  I  remem- 
bered long  afterwards  that  it  was  before  I  had 
answered  Paulette  one  word  about  myself, 
Thompson's  stope,  anything.  But  then  all  I 
did  was  to  stare  at  something  Collins  was 
carrying  carefully  in  his  two  hands.  "  What's 
that?  "  I  said — just  to  say  something. 

"  Some  new  kind  of  high  explosive  Wil- 
braham  got  to  try  and  never  did,"  Collins 
returned  casually.  "  Saw  it  in  his  office  to- 
night and  thought  it  was  better  with  us  than 
with  Macartney.  Don't  know  just  how  it 
works,  so  I'm  treating  it  gingerly."  He 
moved  on  into  the  darkness  of  his  own  tunnel 
and  came  back  empty-handed.  '  What  are 
we  going  to  do — first?  "  he  inquired  calmly. 

I  took  a  look  at  Paulette.  Whether  it  was 
from  Collins's  casual  mention  of  Dudley's 
name  or  not,  she  was  ghastly.  Who  she  was 


In  Collins's  Care  245 

looking  at  I  don't  know;  but  it  wasn't  at 
me. 

"  Sleep,"  said  I  grimly.  "  Two  of  us  need 
it,  if  you  and  Dunn  don't.  Macartney  can't 
get  us  to-night."  Though  of  that  I  was  none 
too  sure.  Charliet  might  get  rattled  any 
moment  and  give  us  away.  But  there  was  no 
good  in  sticking  at  trifles. 

But  Collins  was  an  astute  devil.  "  He 
won't,"  he  rejoined  as  calmly  as  if  I  had  spoken 
of  Charliet  out  loud.  "  He  won't  get  hurt, 
either;  you  can  bank  on  that.  Make  up  that 
fire,  Dunn,  and  we'll  give  Miss  Paulette  the 
blankets." 

We  did,  where  she  lay  at  one  side.  We 
three  men  dropped  like  dogs  in  a  row  in  front 
of  the  fire.  I  was  next  Paulette,  with  the 
space  of  a  foot  or  so  between  us.  I  had  not 
known  how  dead  weary  I  was  till  I  stretched 
out  flat.  Collins  and  Dunn  may  have  slept ;  I 
don't  know;  but  Paulette  certainly  did,  as  soon 
as  she  got  her  head  down.  I  thought  I  lay  and 
watched  the  fire,  but  I  must  have  slept,  too. 
For  I  woke — with  my  heart  drumming  as  if 
I'd  heard  the  trump  for  the  Last  Judgment, 
and  Paulette's  hand  in  mine.  I  must  have 
flung  out  my  arm  till  I  touched  her,  and  her 
little  fingers  were  tight  round  my  hard,  dirty 
hand,  clinging  to  it.  I  lay  in  heaven,  in  the 
dark  of  a  frowsy  cave  we  might  be  hunted  out 


246    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

of  any  minute,  with  the  dying  glow  of  the  fire 
in  my  eyes  and  my  dream  girl's  hand  in  mine. 
And  suddenly,  like  a  blow,  I  heard  her  whisper 
in  her  sleep,  "  Dudley!  Oh,  dear  Dudley!  " 

I  was  only  Nicky  Stretton,  and  a  fool.  I 
lay  in  the  dark  with  a  heart  like  a  stone  and  a 
girl's  warm,  clinging  hand  in  mine. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

HIGH  EXPLOSIVE 

-  THERE  was  nothing  to  tell  of  any  handclasp 
when  I  woke  in  the  morning.  Paulette  lay  in 
her  blankets  with  her  back  to  me,  as  if  she  had 
lain  so  all  night ;  Dunn  was  making  up  the  fire ; 
Collins  was  absent,  till  he  appeared  out  of  his 
tunnel  where  he  had  put  Dudley's  high  ex- 
plosive the  night  before  and  nodded  to  me. 
None  of  us  spoke :  we  all  had  that  chilly  sort  of 
stiffness  you  get  after  sleeping  with  your 
clothes  on.  As  we  ate  our  breakfast  I  took 
one  glance  at  Paulette  and  looked  away  again. 
She  was  absolutely  white,  almost  stunned  look- 
ing, and  her  eyes  would  not  meet  mine.  I  had 
an  intuition  she  had  waked  in  the  night  after  I 
slept  and  discovered  what  she  had  been  doing; 
but  if  she  were  ashamed  there  was  no  need. 
God  knows  I  would  not  have  reminded  her  of 
the  thing.  I  knew  the  dark  hollows  and  the 
tear  marks  under  her  eyes  were  for  Dudley, 
not  for  me.  But  I  had  to  take  care  of  her 
now,  and  Collins  glanced  at  me  as  I  thought  it. 


248    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

.  "  I  suppose  you  realize  Charliet's  our  only 
line  of  communication,  and  that  he  and  all  the 
La  Chance  guns  are  in  the  hands  of  the 
enemy,"  he  observed  drily.  '  What  do  you 
think  of  doing  about  it?  " 

"  Get  Charliet;  all  the  guns  and  ammunition 
he  can  steal ;  hold  this  place  and  harry  Macart- 
ney," I  supposed.  '  What  do  you  think?  " 

I  had  turned  to  Paulette,  but  she  only  shook 
her  head  with  an,  "  I  don't  know,  Mr.  Stret- 
ton !  "  I  had  time  to  decide  she  had  only  called 
me  Nicky  by  mistake  six  hours  ago,  before 
Collins  disagreed  with  me  flatly. 

"  Stay  here?  Not  much!  Won't  work — 
Macartney'd  drop  on  us!  Oh,  I  know  he 
won't  be  able  to  find  our  real  entrance  to  this 
place  unless  Charliet  gives  us  away,  and  I'm 
not  worrying  about  that !  But,  after  he  realizes 
Miss  Valenka  has  vanished" — he  said  her  real 
name  perfectly  casually—  •"  and  when  Charliet 
and  most  of  his  guns  vanish  too,  and  his  men 
begin  to  get  picked  off  one  by  one,  how  long  do 
you  suppose  it  will  be  before  Macartney  con- 
nects the  three  things — and  smells  a  rat? 
He'll  sense  Charliet  and  a  girl  can't  be  fighting 
him  alone.  For  all  we  know  he'll  guess  you 
must  have  got  out  of  Thompson's  stope  some- 
how, and  dig  away  his  rock  fence  to  see !  And 
I  imagine  we'd  look  well  in  here  if  he  did !  " 

"  It's  just  what  we  would  look,"  said  I. 


High  Explosive  249 

"  You  ass,  Collins,  with  Macartney  ignorant 
of  the  real  way  in  on  us,  and  he  and  his  gang 
digging  open  Thompson's  tunnel  against  the 
daylight,  with  you  and  me  and  Dunn  in  the 
dark  on  that  shelf  in  Thompson's  stope  we 
came  in  here  by,  we'd  have  the  drop  on  the  lot. 
Except — Marcia! "  Her  name  jerked  out  of 
me.  We  would  have  to  count  Marcia  in  with 
Macartney's  gang;  and,  remembering  she  had 
known  me  all  her  life,  it  made  me  smart. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Wilbraham — I  should  let  her 
rip !  "  Collins  returned  callously.  "  Listen, 
Stretton;  what  you  say's  all  very  well,  only 
we  can't  count  on  holding  this  place  when  we're 
discovered,  while  it's  a  matter  of  if  Charliet 
can  get  guns !  Miss  Marcia's  rifle  and  her  toy 
popgun  aren't  going  to  save  us,  and  I  doubt 
if  Charliet  can  swipe  any  more.  What  I  say 
is  let's  cut  some  horses  out  of  the  stable  after 
dark,  all  four  of  us  clear  out  on  them  to  Cara- 
quet,  and  set  the  sheriff  and  his  men  after  Ma- 
cartney. Unless,"  he  turned  boldly  to  her, 
"  you  don't  want  that,  Miss  Valenka?  " 

But  if  she  had  been  going  to  answer,  which 
I  don't  think  she  was,  I  cut  her  off.  "  We 
can't  let  Marcia  rip — don't  talk  nonsense,  Col- 
lins! She's  Dudley's  sister,  if  she  and  Ma- 
cartney are  a  firm.  We  can't  clear  out  and 
leave  her  with  a  man  like  that ! " 

"  We  can't  take  her  to  Caraquet,"  Collins 


250    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

argued  with  some  point.  '  You  own  she 
doesn't  know  anything  about  Macartney's  wolf 
dope;  you  haven't  any  witnesses  to  prove  he 
tried  it  on  your  wagon,  or  to  set  the  wolves  on 
Dudley.  Miss  Marcia  would  just  up  and 
swear  your  whole  story  was  a  lie — and  all 
Caraquet  would  believe  her!  Nobody  alive 
ever  heard  of  such  a  thing  as  wolf  dope !  " 

;'  That's  just  where  you're  wrong! "  I  re- 
membered the  boy  I'd  left  cached  in  Skunk's 
Misery — and  something  else,  that  had  been  in 
my  head  ever  since  wolves  and  the  smell  of  a 
Skunk's  Misery  bottle  seemed  to  go  together. 
;<  Two  Frenchmen  were  run  in  for  using  wolf 
dope  in  Quebec  province  last  winter,  for  I've  an 
account  of  their  trial  somewhere  that  I  cut  out 
of  an  Ottawa  paper.  And  as  for  a  witness, 
I've  a  boy  cached  at  Skunk's  Misery  who  can 
prove  Macartney  made  the  same  stuff  there. 
The  only  thing  we  might  get  stuck  on  in  Cara- 
quet is  the  reason  for  all  the  murders  he's  done 
— with,  and  without  it!  " 

"  I  guess  Miss  Valenka  knows  the  reason  all 
right,"  Collins  spoke  as  coolly  as  if  she  were 
not  there,  which  may  have  been  the  wisest  thing 
to  do,  for  though  she  flushed  sharply  she  said 
nothing.  He  went  on  with  exactly  what  she 
had  said  herself.  "  But  after  Hutton  came 
here  to  get  her,  he  saw  he'd  be  a  fool  not  to 
grab  the  La  Chance  mine,  too;  and  unless  we 


High  Explosive  251 

can  stop  him  you  bet  he  and  his  gang  have 
grabbed  it!  They've  disposed  of  Thompson, 
of  all  our  own  men  who  might  have  stood  by  us, 
of  Wilbraham,"  categorically;  "they  think 
they've  disposed  of  Dunn  and  me  and  buried 
you  alive,  and — except  for  having  lost  Miss 
Valenka — Macartney's  made  his  game!  No- 
body'll  know  there's  anything  wrong  at  the 
mine  till  the  spring,  because  there's  no  one 
interested  enough  to  ask  questions  till  Wilbra- 
ham's  bank  payments  have  stopped  long 
enough  to  look  queer.  And  by  that  time  Ma- 
cartney and  his  gang  will  be  gone,  and  the 
cream  of  Wilbraham's  gold  with  them.  As 
for  us,  we  can't  fight  him  by  sitting  in  this 
burrow  with  Miss  Paulette,  and  without  any 
guns,  even  if  he  doesn't  end  by  nosing  out 
Dunn's  and  my  gold  as  well  as  Wilbraham's. 
Why,  we  depend  on  Charliet  for  our  food,  let 
alone  anything  else;  and  for  all  we  know,  Char- 
liet may  have  squeaked  on  us  by  this  time.  I 
say  again,  let's  get  a  sheriff  and  posse  at  Cara- 
quet,  and  come  back  here  and  get  Macartney! 
We  could  do  it,  if  we  took  Miss  Paulette  and 
hit  the  trail  to-night." 

"And  Macartney'd  get  us,  if  we  tried  it ! " 
I  had  thrashed  all  that  out  in  my  head  before, 
while  I  was  tying  up  Macartney  with  Char- 
liet's  clothesline.  "  We'd  be  stopped  by  his 
picket  at  the  Halfway,  if  ever  we  got  to  the 


252    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

Halfway,  for  the  Caraquet  road's  likely  drifted 
solid  and  you  don't  make  time  digging  out 
smothering  horses.  No ;  we'll  fight  Macartney 
where  we  are!  And  the  way  to  do  it  is  with 
Charliet  and  guns." 

"  If  you'll  tell  me  how  we're  to  connect  with 
either!"  Collins  was  grim.  "It's  a  mighty 
dangerous  thing  calling  up  Charliet  on  number 
one  Wolf,  with  the  whole  of  La  Chance  crawl- 
ing with  Macartney  and  his  gang,  hunting  for 
Miss  Paulette.  But  we  can  go  up  to  the  back 
door  and  try  it !  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  Paulette  burst  out  wildly,  "  I'm 
afraid!  I  mean  I  know  we  must  find  out  first 
if  Charliet's  all  right,  but  you  mayn't  get  him 
— and  you'll  give  yourselves  away !  " 

It  was  almost  the  first  time  she  had  spoken, 
and  it  was  more  to  Collins  than  to  me,  but  I 
answered.  "  We'll  get  Charliet  all  right,"  I 
began — and  Collins  gripped  me. 

"  I  dunno,"  he  drawled.  "  Strikes  me  some 
one's  going  to  get  us — first !  " 

He  snapped  out  our  candle,  which  was  sense- 
less, since  Dunn's  red-hot  fire  showed  us  up  as 
plain  as  day,  and  all  four  of  us  stood  paralyzed. 
Somebody — running,  slipping,  with  a  hideous 
clatter  of  stones — was  coming  down  the  long 
passage  Collins  called  his  back  door. 

"  Macartney,"  said  I,  "  and  Charliet's  given 
us  away !  "  And  with  the  words  in  my  mouth 


High  Explosive  253 

I  had  Paulette  around  the  waist  and  shoved 
out  of  sight  behind  the  boulder  that  separated 
Collins's  cave  from  his  tunnel  and  the  pierced 
wall  of  Thompson's  stope.  Macartney  might 
be  a  devil,  but  there  was  no  doubt  the  man  was 
brave  to  come  like  that  for  a  girl,  through  the 
dark  bowels  of  the  earth  where  Charliet  must 
have  warned  him  Dunn  and  Collins  would  be 
lurking.  Only  he  had  not  got  Paulette  yet, 
and  he  would  find  three  men  to  face  before  he 
even  saw  her.  I  stooped  over  her  in  the  dark 
of  Collins's  tunnel,  where  just  a  knife-edge  of 
the  cave  firelight  cut  over  the  boulder's  top. 
"  Keep  still,  Paulette — and  for  any  sake 
don't  move  and  kick  Collins's  devilish  explo- 
sive he's  got  stuck  in  here  somewhere,"  I  said, 
exactly  as  if  I  were  steady.  Which  I  was  not, 
because  it  was  my  unlocked  for,  heaven-sent 
chance  to  get  square  with  Macartney.  I 
sprang  around  the  boulder  to  do  it  and  saw 
Collins  strike  up  the  barrel  of  Marcia's  rifle  in 
Dunn's  stretched  left  arm. 

"  Don't  shoot,"  he  yelled.  "  You  fool,  it's 
Charliet!" 

.1  stood  dead  still.  It  was  Charliet,  but  a 
Charliet  I  had  never  seen.  His  French-Cana- 
dian face  was  tallow  white,  as  he  tore  into  the 
cave,  grinning  like  a  dog  with  rage  and  ex- 
citement. He  brushed  Dunn  and  Collins 
aside  like  flies  and  grabbed  my  arm.  "  Come 


254  The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery- 
out,"  he  panted.  "  Sacre  damn,  bring  Mad- 
emoiselle Paulette  and  come  out!  It  is 
that  Marcia!  She  sees  you  in  the  shack  last 
night;  sees  you — alive  and  out  of  Thompson's 
stope  where  they  buried  you — carrying  Mad- 
emoiselle away!  She  tells  Macartney  so  this 
morning,  when  he  and  I  get  in  after  hunting 
for  Mademoiselle  all  night — praying,  me,  that 
I  might  not  make  a  mistake  and  find  her,  and 
that  you  might.  Oh,  I  tell  you  I  was  crazy- 
dog  crazy!  I  cannot  get  away  from  Ma- 
cartney, I  think  she  may  be  dead  in  the  snow, 
looking  for  me  who  was  not  there,  till  first 
thing  this  morning  we  come  in — and  that  she- 
devil  tells  Macartney  Stretton  takes  Madem- 
oiselle away!  Not  till  now,  till  all  are  out 
of  the  house,  do  I  have  the  chance  to  come  and 
warn  you  what  is  coming!  They  —  that 
Marcia,  Macartney,  all  of  the  men — start  now 
to  dig  you  out  of  Thompson's  stope  they  put 
you  in.  They  think  they  left  some  hole  you 
crawl  out  of  in  the  snow  and  dark,  that  you 
come  for  Mademoiselle  and  take  her  back  into. 
I  could  not  get  you  even  one  small  cartridge 
to  hold  this  place,  and — Macartney  is  clever! 
He  will  be  in  here,  with  all  his  guns,  all  his 
men.  And  then,  quoi  fair  el  Come  now,  all 
of  you,  while  there  is  the  one  chance  to  come 
unseen,  and  get  on  horses  and  go  away.  Ah," 
the  man's  fierce  voice  broke,  ran  up  implor- 


High  Explosive  255 

ingly,  "  I  beg  you,  Mademoiselle,  like  I  would 
beg  the  Blessed  Virgin,  to  make  them  come! 
Before  Macartney,  or  that  Marcia,  finds — 
you!" 

I  jumped  around  and  saw  Paulette,  in  the 
cave.  I  had  left  her  safe  in  Collins's  tunnel; 
and  there  she  stood,  come  out  into  plain  view 
at  the  sound  of  Charliet's  voice.  But  she  was 
not  looking  at  him,  or  me,  or  any  of  us.  Her 
eyes  stared,  sword-blue,  at  the  hole  where  Char- 
liet  had  rushed  in  from  Collins's  secret  pas- 
sage :  I  think  all  I  realized  of  her  face  was  her 
eyes.  I  turned,  galvanized,  to  what  she 
stared  at, — and  saw.  Marcia  Wilbraham  was 
standing  in  the  entrance  from  the  long  pas- 
sage, behind  us  all,  except  Paulette;  meeting 
Paulette's  eyes  with  her  small,  bright  brown 
ones,  her  lips  wide  in  her  ugly,  gum-showing 
smile.  I  knew,  of  course,  that  she  had  picked 
up  Charliet's  track  in  the  snow  from  his  kitchen 
door  to  Collins's  juniper-covered  back  door, 
had  followed  fair  on  his  heels  down,  the  dark 
passage,  instead  of  going  with  Macartney  to 
dig  me  out  of  Thompson's  stope;  that  in  one 
second  she  would  turn  and  run  back  again,  to 
show  Macartney  Collins's  back  door. 

My  jump  was  late.  It  was  Dunn  who  saved 
us.  He  sprang  matter-of-factly,  like  a  blood- 
hound, and  pulled  Marcia  down.  She  was  as 
strong  as  a  man,  pretty  nearly;  she  fought 


256    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

fiercely,  till  she  heard  the  boy  laugh.  That 
cowed  her,  in  some  queer  way.  I  heard  Dunn 
say:  'You'd  better  stay  here  a  while,  Miss 
Wilbraham.  It's  safer — than  with  Macart- 
ney;" saw  Charliet  run  to  help  him,  and  the 
two  of  them  placidly  tie  and  gag  Marcia  Wil- 
braham with  anything  they  could  take  off 
themselves.  It  was  with  a  vivid  impression  of 
Charliet's  none  too  clean  neck-handkerchief 
playing  a  large  part  in  Marcia's  toilette  that 
Collins  and  I  jumped,  with  one  accord,  to 
Paulette.  I  don't  know  what  he  said  to  her. 
I  saw  her  nod. 

I  said,  "  We're  done  for  if  Macartney  gets 
in  on  us  through  Thompson's  stope  and  finds 
this  place.  He'll  just  send  half  his  men  to 
scout  for  the  other  entrance;  they'll  find  it 
from  Charliet's  and  Marcia's  tracks  and  get 
at  us  both  ways.  You  stay  here  with  Charliet, 
while  Collins  and  I  meet  Macartney  in  Thomp- 
son's stope.  When — if — you  hear  we  can't 
best  him,  run — with  Charliet!  Dunn'll  look 
after  Marcia." 

She  gave  me  a  stunned  sort  of  look,  as  if  I 
were  deserting  her,  as  if  I  didn't — care!  I 
would  have  snatched  her  in  my  arms  and 
kissed  her,  Dudley  or  no  Dudley  lying  dead 
in  the  bush,  but  I  had  no  time.  Collins  had 
me  by  the  elbow,  his  fierce  drawl  close  to  my 
half -comprehending  ear.  We'd  no  guns  but 


High  Explosive  257 

Marcia's  popgun  and  her  rifle ;  two  of  us,  even 
on  the  shelf  in  Thompson's  stope,  would  do 
little  good  with  those  against  all  Macartney's 
men  crowding  into  the  stope  and  giving  us  a 
volley  the  second  our  fire  from  the  shelf 
drew  theirs.  We  might  pick  off  half  a 
dozen  of  them  before  our  cartridges  gave 
out.  But  there  was  no  sense  in  that  business. 

We  would  have  to  try But  here  I 

came  alive  to  what  Collins  was  really  talking 
about. 

'  That  high  explosive,"  he  was  saying. 
"  It's  a  filthy  trick,  but  God  knows  they  de- 
serve it !  If  we  blow  them  back  far  enough  at 
the  very  entrance  of  the  tunnel,  they  may 
never  come  on  again  to  get  in." 

I  daresay  I'd  have  recoiled  in  cold  blood. 
But  my  blood  ran  hot  that  morning.  I  did 
think,  though ;  hard.  I  said,  "  Can't  do  it ! 
Xo  fuse." 

"  Heaps.  Dunn's  and  mine! "  I  heard  Col- 
lins grabbling  for  it,  somewhere  in  the  dark  of 
the  tunnel. 

Behind  me  somebody  lit  a  candle;  who,  I 
never  looked  to  see.  In  the  light  of  it  I  saw 
Collins  pick  up  his  bundle  of  blasting  powder 
and  warned  him  sharply. 

"  Look  out  with  that  stuff!  We  don't  know 
it;  it  may  work  anyway.  If  it  bursts  up  in 
the  air  the  stope  roof  11  be  down  on  us.  It 


258    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

may  fire  back,  too — and  we'd  be  hit  behind  the 
point  of  burst! " 

'  We  won't  be,"  said  Collins,  between  his 
teeth.  "  I'll  burst  it  out  the  tunnel,  and  blow 
Macartney's  gang  to  rags!  " 

But  that  lighted  candle  at  my  back  had 
shown  me  other  than  explosives:  the  silly, 
pointless  snowshoes  I  had  lugged  from  my  own 
room  in  the  shack.  My  conscious  mind  knew 
now  what  my  subconscious  mind  had  wanted 
them  for,  like  a  mill  where  some  one  had  turned 
on  the  current.  I  swore  out  loud.  "  By  gad, 
Collins,  listen !  If  we  don't  smash  Macartney, 
and  he  gets  in  on  us,  he'll  get  Paulette!  I've 
got  to  stop  that,  somehow.  Macartney  doesn't 
know  she's  here  yet;  Marcia  only  guessed  it. 
Supposing  he  were  to  see  only  me,  alone  in 
Thompson's  stope,  he  might  never  know  she 
was  here  too !  " 

"  Dunno  what  you  mean,"  Collins  snapped. 
And  I  snapped  back: 

"  I  mean  that  if  we  blow  a  clean  hole  at  the 
tunnel  entrance,  and  I  burst  out  of  it  and  run, 
I  can  get  the  :  '  ole  gang  after  me — and  make 
time  for  you  and  Charliet  to  get  Paulette  away 
somewhere,  by  the  back  door." 

"  But " — Collins  halted  where  he  swarmed 
up  into  Thompson's  stope  — "  where'll  you  go? 
You  can't,  Stretton.  It's  death!  " 

"  It's  sense,"  said  I.    "As  for  where  I'll  go, 


High  Explosive  259 

Lac  Tremblant'll  do  for  me;  and  I  bet  it  will 
finish  any  man  of  Macartney's  who  tries  to 
come  after  me!  Get  through  into  that  stope 
with  your  fuse,  man;  I'll  hand  you  the  blasting 
stuff.  Got  it?  All  right.  Here  you,  gimme 
that  candle !  "  I  turned  and  took  it — out  of 
Paillette's  hand ! 

I  gasped,  taken  aback  all  standing,  before  I 
lied,  "  It's  all  right,  Paulette.  I'll  be  back  in 
a  minute."  And  though  I  knew  she  must  have 
heard  what  I  was  going  to  do,  I  had  no  better 
sense  than  to  stoop  before  the  girl's  blank  eyes 
and  snatch  up  my  two  pairs  of  snowshoes,  that 
had  been  lying  beside  the  explosive  I  had  just 
passed  up  to  Collins,  before  I  clambered  up 
through  the  hole  into  Thompson's  stope,  on  to 
the  shelf  from  whence  I  had  first  dropped  into 
Collins's  cave. 

Collins  was  down  in  Thompson's  tunnel  al- 
ready, laying  his  fuse  with  deadly  skill.  Al- 
ready, too,  we  could  hear  Macartney's  men 
outside,  leveraging  away  the  boulders  that  had 
plugged  up  the  tunnel  entrance  where  I  was 
to  starve  and  die.  Collins  placed  the  stuff  I 
carried  down  to  him.  I  said,  "  My  God,  you 
can't  use  all  that;  the  whole  stope'll  be  down 
on  us!"  And  he  answered,  "No;  I've  done 
it  right."  That  was  every  word  we  uttered  till 
we  were  back  on  our  high  shelf,  with  a  lit  fuse 
left  behind  us  in  the  stope.  The  fuse  burned 


260    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

smooth  as  a  dream,  and  Collins  nudged  me 
with  fierce  satisfaction.  But  I  was  suddenly 
sick  with  horror.  Not  at  the  thing  we  were 
doing — if  it  were  devil's  work  we  had  been 
driven  to  be  devils — but  at  the  knowledge  that 
Paulette  was  standing  within  reach  of  my  feet, 
that  were  through  the  stope  wall  and  were 
hanging  down  into  Collins's  tunnel, — that  tun- 
nel every  bone  in  me  knew  was  amateur,  un- 
safe, a  death  trap.  The  shock  of  a  big  explo- 
sion in  Thompson's  stope  might  well  bring  its 
roof  down  on  Paulette,  standing  alone  in  it, 
waiting, — trusting  to  me  for  safety.  I  turned 
my  head  and  yelled  at  her  as  a  man  yells  at  a 
dog — or  his  dearest — when  he  is  sick  with  f ear 
for  her:  "  Get  back  out  of  that  into  the  cave! 
Run! " 

I  heard  her  jump.     Heard  her But 

thought  stopped  in  me,  with  one  unwritable, 
life-checking  shock.  The  whole  earth,  the 
very  globe,  seemed  to  have  blown  to  pieces 
around  me.  The  flash  and  roar  were  like  a 
thousand  howitzers  in  my  very  face;  the  solid 
rock  shelf  I  was  on  leapt  under  me ;  and  behind 
me  the  whole  of  Collins's  tunnel  collapsed, 
with  a  grinding  roar.  I  heard  Collins  'gasp, 
"  Good  glory  ";  heard  the  rocks  and  gravel  in 
the  stope  before  me  settling,  with  an  indescrib- 
able, threatening  noise,  between  thunder  and 
breaking  china — and  all  I  thought  of  was  that 


High  Explosive  261 

I'd  warned  my  dream  girl  in  time,  that  she'd 
answered  me,  that  she  was  back  in  Collins's 
cave,  and  safe.  Till,  suddenly  to  eyes  that 
had  been  too  dazzled  and  seared  to  see  it  clear- 
ing, the  smoke  before  me  cleared,  the  choking 
fumes  lessened,  and  I  saw.  Saw,  straight  in 
front  of  me,  where  a  tunnel  had  been  and  was 
no  longer,  a  clean  hole  like  a  barn  door  where 
Thompson's  tunnel  entrance  had  been  but  two- 
men  wide;  saw  out,  into  furious,  crimson  color 
that  turned  slowly,  as  my  sight  grew  normal, 
into  the  golden,  dazzling  glory  of  winter  sun 
on  snow. 

There  was  silence  outside  in  the  sun,  all  but 
some  yells  and  moaning.  How  much  damage 
we'd  done  I  couldn't  see;  or  where  Macart- 
ney's men  were,  dead  or  alive.  But  now,  while 
they  were  paralyzed  with  shock  and  surprise, 
now  was  my  time  to  get  through  them.  I  low- 
ered myself  gingerly  to  the  rubbish  heap  that 
had  been  the  smooth  floor  of  Thompson's 
stope;  edged  to  the  tunnel  entrance;  slipped 
my  feet  into  the  toe  and  heel  straps  of  the 
snowshoes  I  had  held  tightly  against  me 
through  all  the  unspeakable,  hellish  uproar  of 
rending  rock,  and  sprang, — sprang  out  into 
the  sunlight,  out  on  the  clear  snow,  past 
wounded  men,  reeling  men,  dying  men,  and 
raced  as  I  never  put  foot  to  ground  before  or 
since,  for  Lac  Tremblant,  glittering  clear  and 


262    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

free  in  front  of  me, — that  Lac  Tremblant  I 
had  thought  of  subconsciously  when  I  carried 
snowshoes  into  Collins's  cave. 

In  the  beginning  of  this  story  I  said  what 
Lac  Tremblant  was  like.  It  was  a  lake  that 
was  no  lake ;  that  should  have  been  our  water- 
way out  of  the  bush  instead  of  miles  of  expen- 
sive road;  and  was  no  more  practicable  than  a 
rope  ladder  to  the  stars.  For  the  depth  of 
Lac  Tremblant,  or  its  fairway,  were  two  things 
no  man  might  count  on.  It  would  fall  in  a 
night  to  shallows  a  child  might  wade  through, 
among  bristling  rocks  no  one  had  ever  guessed 
at;  and  rise  in  a  morning  to  the  tops  of  the 
spruce  scrub  on  its  banks, — a  sweet  spread  of 
water,  with  never  a  rock  to  be  seen.  What 
hidden  spring  fed  it  was  a  mystery.  But  in 
the  bitterest  winter  it  was  never  frozen  further 
than  to  form  surging  masses  of  frazil  ice 
that  would  neither  let  a  canoe  push  through 
them,  nor  yet  support  the  weight  of  a 
man.  It  was  on  that  frazil  ice,  that  some 
people  called  lolly,  that  I  meant  to  run  for 
my  life  now,  trusting  to  the  resistance  of 
the  two  feet  of  snow  that  lay  on  the  lake  in 
the  mysterious  way  snow  does  lie  on  lolly,  and 
to  the  snowshoes  on  my  feet.  And  as  I  slith- 
ered on  to  the  soft  snow  of  the  lake,  from  tfie 
crackling,  breaking  shell  ice  on  the  La  Chance 
shore,  I  knew  I  had  done  well.  Some — a 


High  Explosive  263 

good  many — of  Macartney's  men  were  killed 
or  half-killed  by  our  deadly  blast,  but  not  all. 
He  had  been  more  cautious  than  I  guessed.  I 
saw  the  rest  of  his  men  bunched  some  hundred 
feet  from  the  smashed-out  tunnel ;  saw  Macart- 
ney, too,  standing  with  them.  But  all  I  cared 
for  was  that  he  should  see  me  and  come  out 
after  me  on  the  crust  of  snow  and  lolly  over 
Lac  Tremblant, — that  would  never  carry  him 
without  the  snowshoes  he  did  not  have — and 
give  Paulette  her  chance  to  get  away.  I 
yelled  at  him  and  skimmed  out  over  the  trem- 
bling ice  like  a  bird. 

Neither  Macartney  nor  his  men  had  stirred 
in  that  one  flying  glance  I  had  dared  take  at 
them.  But  sheer  tumult  came  out  of  them 
now.  Then  shots — shots  that  missed  me,  and 
a  sudden  howled  order  from  Macartney  I 
dared  not  turn  my  head  or  break  my  stride 
to  understand.  The  giving  surface  under  me 
was  bearing,  but  a  quarter-second's  pause 
would  have  let  me  through.  There  was  no 
sense  in  zigzagging.  Once  I  was  clear,  I  ran 
as  straight  as  I  dared  for  the  other  shore,  five 
miles  away;  but — suddenly  I  realized  I  was 
not  clear  I  I  was  followed. 

Somebody  else  on  snowshoes  had  shot  out  of 
Thompson's  tunnel,  over  the  crackling  shore 
ice  on  to  the  snow  and  frazil;  was  up  to  me, 
close  behind  me. 


264    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

"  Run,  Nicky,"  shrieked  Paulette's  voice. 
"  Run! " 

I  slewed  my  head  around  and  saw  her,  run- 
ning behind  me ! 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

LAC  TEEMBLANT 

"Across  the  ice  that  never  froze 

The  snow  that  never  bore, 
My  love  ran  out  to  follow  me — 
To  follow  to  the  shore." 

The  Day  the  World  Went  Mad. 

IT  may  be  true  that  I  swore  aloud;  but  what 
I  meant  by  it  was  more  like  praying.  Over 
me  was  the  blue  winter  sky  and  the  gold  sun; 
under  me  the  treacherous  spread  of  the  lake 
that  was  no  lake,  that  one  misstep  might  send 
me  through,  to  God  knew  what  hideous  depth 
of  unfrozen  water,  or  bare,  bone-shattering 
stone ;  behind  me  were  Macartney  and  Macart- 
ney's men;  and  close  up  to  me,  nearer  every 
second,  my  Paulette,  my  dream  girl  who  had 
never  been  mine.  There  was  nothing  to  do  for 
both  of  us  but  to  keep  on  crossing  Lac  Trem- 
blant.  Missteps  might  be  death,  but  turning 
back  was  worse — for  her,  anyway. 

I  yelled,  "  Keep  wide!  Get  abreast  of  me 
— don't  take  any  direction  you  don't  see  me 
take.  But  keep  wide!"  Because  what  held 


266    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

one  of  us  would  never  hold  two,  and  behind  me, 

running  in  my  tracks Well,  even  a  light 

girl  would  not  run  long  1 

Paulette  only  screamed,  "Yes.  Keep  on! 
They're  coming !  "  She  may  have  needed  her 
breath,  I  don't  know;  but  she  didn't  run  like  it. 
She  ran  like  a  deer,  with  my  own  flat,  heel- 
dragging  stride  on  the  snowshoes  I  had  not 
thought  she  knew  how  to  use.  One  more  shot 
came  after  us.  I  yelled  again  to  her  to  keep 
wide  and  heard  her  sheer  off  a  little  to  obey 
me ;  but  she  still  ran  behind  me.  God  knows  I 
didn't  realize,  till  afterwards,  that  it  was  to 
keep  Macartney  from  shooting  me.  I  didn't 
even  wonder  why  Collins  and  Dunn  weren't 
firing  into  the  brown  of  Macartney's  men  with 
Marcia's  rifle  and  popgun.  I  was  too  busy 
watching  the  snow  surfaces  before  me. 

There  was  a  difference  in  them.  I  can't  ex- 
plain what,  but  a  difference  between  where 
there  was  water  to  buoy  the  snow,  and  where  it 
lay  on  shell  ice.  The  open  black  holes  where 
there  was  nothing  at  all  any  one  could  see,  and 
I  didn't  worry  over  them.  I  only  knew  we 
must  run  over  water,  or  the  light  stuff  under 
us  would  let  us  through.  I  kept  moving  my 
hand  in  infinitesimal  signals  to  Paulette,  and 
God  knows  she  was  quick  at  understanding. 
My  heart  was  in  my  mouth  for  her,  but  she 
never  made  a  mistake,  or  a  stumble  where  a 


Lac  Tremblant  267 

stumble  would  have  meant  the  end.  She  called 
to  me  suddenly;  something  that  sounded  like, 
"They're  coming!" 

I  turned  my  head  and  saw  out  of  the  tail  of 
my  eye,  as  a  man  sees  when  he's  riding  a  race. 
They  were  coming!  Macartney's  men,  and — 
I  thought — Macartney;  but  I  knew  better 
than  to  look  long  enough  to  make  sure.  His 
men,  anyhow,  had  raced  out  on  the  lake  as  we 
had  raced,  and  there  was  no  need  to  watch  what 
became  of  them.  Their  dying  screams  came 
to  us,  as  they  floundered  and  sank  in  their 
heavy  boots  through  snow  and  frazil  ice,  to 
depths  they  would  never  get  out  of.  I  might 
have  been  sick  anywhere  else.  I  was  fierce 
with  joy  out  there  in  Lac  Tremblant,  running 
with  a  girl  over  the  thin  crust  under  which 
death  lurked  to  snatch  at  us,  as  it  had  snatched 
at  Macartney's  men.  Neither  of  us  spoke.  I 
was  thinking  too  hard.  I  could  have  run  in- 
definitely as  we  were  running,  but  Paulette 
was  just  a  girl.  What  of  Paulette  if  she  slack- 
ened with  weariness,  if  I  led  her  wrong  by  six 
inches,  or  missed  a  single  threatening  sign  on 
the  stuff  we  fled  over? 

If  I  had  been  sure  Macartney  was  drowned 
with  his  men,  I  might  have  taken  her  back  to 
La  Chance;  but  I  was  not  sure.  And,  Ma- 
cartney or  no  Macartney,  the  track  I  had  led 
her  out  on  the  lake  by  was  the  only  one  I  would 


268  The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery- 
have  dared  trust  to  return  on, — and  it  was  all 
lumps  of  snowy  lolly  and  blue  water,  where 
Macartney's  men  had  broken  through.  I 
looked  ahead  of  me  with  my  mind  running  like 
a  mill.  We  had  done  about  half  the  five-mile 
crossing;  we  might  do  the  rest  if  we  could  stop 
and  breathe  for  ten  minutes,  for  five,  even  for 
two.  Only,  in  all  the  width  of  the  lake  that  lay 
like  cake  icing  in  front  of  us,  there  was  not  one 
place  where  we  could  dare  to  stand.  The  water 
under  us  was  higher  than  I  had  ever  known 
it.  Not  one  single  dagger-toothed  rock  showed 
as  they  had  showed  when  I  crossed  it  in  a  canoe 
the  night  before  it  froze  to  the  thick  slush  that 
was  all  it  ever  froze  to.  There  was  not  one 

single  place  to But  violently,  out  of  the 

back  of  my  memory,  something  came  to  me. 
There  was  one  place  in  Lac  Tremblant  where, 
high  water  or  low,  a  man  might  always  stand— 
if  I  could  hit  it  in  the  smothering,  featureless 
snow. 

"  The  island !  "  I  gasped  out  loud.  Because 
there  was  one — a  high,  narrow  island  without 
even  a  bush  on  it — rising  gradually,  not  pre- 
cipitately like  the  rest  of  the  rocks  in  Lac 
Tremblant,  out  of  the  uncertain  water.  But 
for  half  an  hour  I  thought  it  might  as  well  be 
non-existent.  Stare  as  I  might  I  could  see  no 
sign  of  it — and  suddenly  I  all  but  fell  with 
blessed  shock.  I  was  on  it ;  on  the  highest  end 


Lac  Tremblant  269 

of  it,  with  solid  ground  under  my  feet;  solid 
ground  and  safety,  breath  and  rest.  I  yelled 
to  Paulette,  "  Jump  to  me!  "  and  she  jumped. 
That  was  all  there  was  to  it,  except  a  man  and 
a  girl,  panting,  staggering,  clinging  together, 
till  sense  came  to  them,  and  they  dropped  flat 
in  the  snow. 

I  said  sense,  but  I  don't  know  that  I  had 
any.  I  lay  there  staring  at  Paulette  and  her 
long  bronze  hair  that  had  come  down  as  she 
ran,  till  it  was  like  a  mantle  over  her  and  the 
snow  round  her.  I  had  never  thought  women 
had  hair  like  that.  I  cried  out,  "  My  God, 
Paulette,  why  did  you  come?  " 

I  may  have  sounded  angry.  I  was,  as  a 
man  always  is  angry  when  he  has  dragged  a 
woman  into  his  danger.  Paulette  panted 
without  looking  at  me.  "  I — had  to !  The 
tunnel — caved  in !  " 

"  I  told  you  to  get  out  of  it!"  I  sat  up 
where  I  had  flung  myself  down  and  stared  at 
her.  She  sat  up,  too,  both  of  us  crimson-faced 
and  dishevelled.  But  neither  of  us  thought  of 
that.  I  stormed  like  a  fool.  "  What  pos- 
sessed you  to  stay  in  the  tunnel — or  to  follow 
me?  I  told  you  to  jump  for  the  cave! " 

"  Well,  I  didn't!  "  Paulette  stiffened  as  if 
she  froze.  "  I  hadn't  time.  I  would  have  had 
to  cross  the  tunnel.  And  I  hadn't  time  to  do 
anything  but  jump  to  you  and  Collins  before 


270    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

your  stuff  blew  up.  I'd  just  got  on  your  shelf 
when  it  went  off,  and  it  stunned  me  till  I  had 
just  sense  enough  left  to  lie  still  and  hold  on. 
But  afterwards,  when  I  saw  what  you  were 
going  to  do,  I  put  on  the  snowshoes  you'd  left 
by  the  tunnel  entrance  and  came  after  you. 
I'm  sorry  I  did,  now!  " 

"  But  Collins "  I  looked  blankly  across 

the  two  miles  of  quivering  death  trap  we  still 
had  to  cross  before  we  gained  what  safety  there 
might  be  in  the  Halfway  shore  and  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Macartney's  picket,  and  my 
thoughts  were  not  of  Collins — "  Why,  in 
heaven's  name,  didn't  Collins  have  sense 
enough  to  lug  you  back  into  his  cave  with  him 
and  Charliet,  instead  of  letting  you  take  a 
chance  like  this? " 

"  Collins  couldn't  get  back  himself,"  Paul- 
ette  retorted,  as  if  I  were  unbearably  stupid. 
"  Nobody  could  get  back!  I  told  you  the  tun- 
nel caved  in,  till  it  was  solid  between  us  and  the 
others.  Collins  saw  I  had  to  follow  you.  In 
two  more  minutes  Dick  would  have  come  to 
hunt  Thompson's  stope  for  me,  and  we  had  no 
guns  to  stave  him  off.  You  and  Collins  left 
them  in  the  tunnel ! "  It  was  just  what  we 
had  done,  and  I  wasted  good  time  in  remem- 
bering it,  guiltily.  Paulette  stood  up  and 
twisted  back  her  streaming  cloud  of  hair. 
"  So,  as  I  had  to  come  with  you,"  she  resumed 


Lac  Tremblant  271 

without  looking  at  me,  "  don't  you  think  we'd 
better  get  on?  If  you're  waiting  for  me  to 
rest,  you  needn't." 

I  wasn't,  altogether.  I  stared  back  over  the 
perilous  way  we  had  come.  There  was  no 
black  speck  of  any  one  following  us  on  its 
treacherous  face;  no  sound  of  shots;  no  any- 
thing from  the  shore  we  had  left.  Yet, 
'  Where  do  you  suppose  Macartney  is?"  I 
asked  involuntarily. 

"  Dead."  Her  voice  was  almost  indifferent, 
but  she  shivered.  "  Or  he'd  have  gone  on 
shooting  at  us." 

I  nodded,  but  I  would  have  felt  easier  if  I 
had  thought  so.  Somehow  I  didn't,  I  don't 
know  why.  I  know  nothing  would  have  in- 
duced me  to  take  Paulette  back  to  La  Chance, 
even  if  the  trodden  lolly  would  have  borne  us 
again.  I  had  a  pang  about  Collins,  left  alone 
there;  but  Collins  could  take  care  of  himself, 
and  Paulette's  shiver  had  reminded  me  we 
should  freeze  to  death  if  we  loitered  where  we 
were.  I  pointed  to  the  snowy  lake  between  us 
and  the  Halfway  shore.  "  Can  you  do  two 
more  miles  of  running,  over  that?  " 

'  Yes,"  she  glanced  down  at  her  slim, 
trained  body,  rather  superbly.  "  Only — 
there's  no  one  following  us  I  Have  we  got  to 
be  quite  so  quick?" 

"  Quicker !    We  don't  know  about  Macart- 


272    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

ney.  If  he's  alive  he  has  a  stable  full  of  horses, 
and  he  knows  where  we're  running  to.  He 
may  try  to  cut  us  off."  I  half  lied;  he  could 
not  cut  us  off,  since  horses  would  be  of  no  use 
to  him  in  the  heavy  snow,  and  on  foot  it  would 
take  him  two  days  to  go  round  Lac  Tremblant 
to  the  Halfway,  where  crossing  the  lolly  could 
bring  us  in  two  hours.  But  I  had  no  mind  to 
air  my  real  reason  for  haste. 

I  should  have  known  Paulette  was  too 
shrewd  for  me.  "  I'm  a  fool — Lac  Tremblant 
never  bears,  of  course,"  she  said  quite  quietly. 
"  Go  on,  Mr.  Stretton.  Only — don't  stop,  if 
anything  goes  wrong  with  me !  " 

"  Nothing  will  go  wrong,"  said  I,  just  as  if 
I  believed  it.  If  she  had  called  me  Nicky,  as 
she  had  done  by  mistake  the  night  before,  when 
she  slept  with  her  hand  clasping  mine,  if  she'd 
even  looked  at  me,  I  must  have  burst  out  that 
I  loved  her,  past  life  and  death,  and  out  to  the 
world  to  come.  But  it  was  no  time  to  force 
love-making  on  a  girl  who  had  seen  the  man 
she  meant  to  marry  lie  dead  before  her  eyes. 
If  she  turned  shaky,  or  cried,  I  could  never 
save  her.  For  the  bit  of  lake  in  front  of  us 
was  ten  times  worse  than  what  we'd  crossed. 
I  knew  that  when  I  tightened  up  the  snowshoes 
silently  and  led  my  dream  girl  out  on  it.  I 
would  have  given  half  my  life  for  a  rope,  such 
as  people  have  on  glaciers.  But  I  had  no 


Lac  Tremblant  273 

rope,  and  each  of  us  would  have  to  run,  or 
sink,  alone. 

I  meant,  of  course But  that's  no  mat- 
ter. I  got  Paulette  off  the  island  and,  inch 
by  inch,  feeling  my  way,  back  to  the  channel 
where  buoyant  water,  at  least,  lay  under  us. 
I  twisted  and  turned  like  a  corkscrew,  but  I 
dared  not  leave  it.  Once  I  cautioned  Paulette 
never  to  try  a  short  cut,  just  to  keep  abreast 
of  me ;  and  twice  my  heart  was  in  my  mouth  at 
a  hollow,  instant-long  clatter  under  our  shoes. 
But  we  got  on  over  the  stuff  somehow,  leaving 
holes  of  blue  water  in  our  tracks,  with  great 
gobbets  of  snow  floating  in  them.  The  shore 
lay  close  in  front  of  us,  with  a  hard  distinct 
edge  of  shell  ice  showing  where  the  water 
stopped.  I  was  just  going  to  call  out  that  in 
ten  feet  more  we'd  be  safe  over  the  lolly,  when 
—smash — both  of  us  went  through !  I  thought 
I  fell  a  mile  before  I  hit  the  water  that  was 
going  to  drown  us;  hit  it  knees  first,  just  as  I'd 
gone  through,  and — I  sprawled  in  icy  slush 
that  rose  no  higher  than  my  waist.  I  was  in  a 
sort  of  pocket  between  two  rocks  that  were 
holding  up  the  lolly.  There  was  an  avalanche 
of  caving  snow  and  ice  all  round  me,  but  I  was 
not  drowned  or  likely  to  be, — only  I  barely 
thought  of  it.  For  I  could  not  see  Paulette. 
Suddenly,  past  belief,  I  heard  her  scream: 
"Nicky!" 


274    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

I  fought  blindly  to  the  sound  of  her  voice, 
wormed  between  my  screening  rocks,  and 
shouted  as  I  stood  up.  She  was  not  even  in 
slush !  She  had  gone  through  shell  ice  to  bare 
ground,  a  long  strip  of  bare  ground  that  led 
straight  to  the  Halfway  shore;  roofed,  high 
above  my  head,  with  shell  ice  and  lolly  that  fil- 
tered a  silver-green  light.  My  dream  girl  lay 
there  in  her  little  blue  sweater  with  the  wind 
knocked  out  of  her — and  that  was  all.  I 
kicked  off  my  snowshoes  that  were  not  even 
broken  and  carried  her  under  the  ice  roof  to 
the  Halfway  shore.  I  may  have  thanked  God 
aloud;  I  don't  know.  Only  I  carried  her,  with 
my  face  close  to  hers,  and  the  slush  and  snow 
from  her  falling  over  me  as  I  stumbled  under 
the  ice  roof  to  the  blessed  shore.  I  had  just 
sense  enough  to  drop  her  in  the  blinding  day- 
light, and  drop  myself  beside  her.  I  couldn't 
speak,  from  dead  cold  fear,  now  that  I  had 
saved  her,  of  what  it  would  have  been  if  I  had 
not.  For  two  gasping  minutes  we  just  lay 
there. 

Then  Paulette  said  pantingly,  "  I'm  so 
dreadfully  sorry — I've  been  such  a  trouble! 
But  I  couldn't  do  anything  but  come,  and — I 
forgot  you  couldn't  want  me !  " 

I  sat  up  and  saw  her,  sitting  on  a  cold,  bare, 
wind-swept  rock  that  was  all  the  refuge  I  had 
to  offer  her.  Half  a  mile  farther  on  were  food 


Lac  Tremblant  275 

and  shelter  in  the  Halfway  shack — and  it 
might  as  well  have  been  in  Heaven,  for  with 
Macartney's  men  cached  in  it  I  naturally  could 
not  take  her  there.  Behind  that,  twenty-seven 
miles  off,  was  Caraquet ;  but  even  a  girl  with  a 
trained  body  like  Paulette's  could  never  make 
twenty-seven  miles  on  top  of  all  we'd  done. 

"  It's  no  question  of  wanting  you,"  I  ex- 
claimed angrily.  "  It  is  that  I  don't  know 
what  to  do.  But  want  you — when  do  you  sup- 
pose I  haven't  wanted  you,  ever  since  the  night 
I  first  saw  you  by  Dudley's  fire?  What  do 
you  suppose  I'd  ever  have  been  in  this  game 
for,  if  I  hadn't  wanted  just  you  in  all  this 
world?  My  heart  of  hearts,  don't  you  know  I 
love  you?  "  I  lost  my  head,  or  I  never  would 
have  said  it,  for  I  saw  her  flinch.  That 
brought  me  back  to  myself  in  the  snow  and 
desolation  round  us  that  stood  for  God's  world 
as  nothing  else  would  have  done.  I  burst  out 
in  shame,  "  Oh,  forgive  me!  I  never  meant  to 
let  that  out.  I  know  you  never  cared  a  hang 
for  me ;  that  you  were  going  to  marry  Dudley, 
if  he  hadn't  been  killed!" 

For  one  solid  minute  Paulette  never  opened 
her  mouth.  She  sat  like  a  colored  statue,  with 
rose-crimson  cheeks  and  gold-bronze  hair,  un- 
der the  white  January  sun.  Her  eyes  were  so 
dark  in  her  face  that  they  looked  like  blue- 
black  ink.  "  I — I  never  was  engaged  to  Dud- 


276    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

ley,"  she  gasped  at  last,  more  as  if  it  were 
jerked  out  of  her  than  voluntarily.  "  I  didn't 
think  it  was  any  business  of  yours,  but  I  never 
was.  We — Dudley  and  I — only  said  so,  be- 
cause it  seemed  the  simplest  way  to  manage 
Marcia,  when  Dudley  brought  me  here  to  get 
me  out  of  that  emerald  business.  He  was 
good  to  me,  if  ever  a  man  was  good  to  a  girl 
he  was  only  sorry  for;  I  can't  forget  that 
brought  him  to  his  death.  I'm  sick  with  sor- 
row for  him, — but  I  never  was  going  to  marry 

Dudley !  He  didn't  even  want  me  to.  He 

Oh,  Nicky! " 

Because  I  couldn't  stand  it;  I'd  seen  her 
eyes.  I  had  both  her  hands  in  mine,  I  think  I 
was  telling  her  over  and  over  how  I  had  always 
loved  her,  how  I  had  stood  out  of  Dudley's 
way,  that  I  didn't  expect,  of  course,  that  she 
could  care  about  an  Indian-faced  fool  like  me, 
when — suddenly — I  knew!  Like  roses  and 
silver  trumpets  and  shelter  out  there  in  the 
homeless  snow,  I  knew!  All  Paulette  said 
was,  "  Oh,  Nicky,"  again.  But  the  two  of  us 
were  in  each  other's  arms. 

I  don't  know  how  long  we  clung  or  what  we 
said.  But  at  last  I  lifted  my  Indian-dark 
head  from  her  gold  one  and  spoke  abruptly 
out  of  Paradise.  "  By  gad,  I  have  it !  " 

"Have  what?"  Paulette  gasped.  "Oh, 
you  certainly  have  most  of  my  hair;  it's  all 


Lac  Tremblant  277 

wound  up  in  your  coat  buttons — if  you  mean 
that!" 

I  didn't.  "  I  meant  I  knew  where  we  could 
go,  and  that's  to  Skunk's  Misery,"  I  harked 
back  soberly,  remembering  the  boy  I  had  left 
there  with  a  fire  and  shelter  anyhow,  if  not 
food. 

"  But  you  said  it  was  a  horrible  place!  " 

"  So  it  is,  when  you  have  anywhere  else  to 
go.  But  we  can't  try  the  Halfway  with  Ma- 
cartney's men  in  it,  and  neither  of  us  could 
make  Caraquet  to-night.  We've  got  to  have 
shelter,  darling." 

Paulette  stopped  plaiting  her  hair  in  a  thick 
rope.  "  Say  that  again,"  she  ordered  curi- 
ously. 

"  What— Skunk's  Misery?  "  But  suddenly 
I  understood,  and  used  that  word  I  had  never 
said  aloud  before: 

"Darling  darling,  Skunk's  Misery  is  our 
only  chance.  Get  up  and  come  on!  " 

But  she  answered  without  moving. 

"  Want  to  tell  you  something  first.  The 
tunnel  falling  in  wasn't  all  the  reason  I  ran 
after  you.  I  thought — thought  Dick  might 
not  dare  to  shoot  at  you  if  I  were  between  you 

and  him,  so Oh,  Nicky,  don't  kiss  my 

horrid,  chapped  hands ! " 

But  I  was  glad  to  hide  my  humbled  face  on 
them,  remembering  how  I  had  stormed  at  her. 


278    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

I  muttered,  "  Why  didn't  you  tell  me — out 
there  on  the  lake? " 

'  Well,  you  were  pretty  unpleasant,  and  " — 
as  I  kissed  her,  my  dear  love  I  had  never 
thought  to  touch — "  oh,  Nicky,  how  could  I 
tell  you?  I  said  everything  to  you  last  night 
but  'Nicholas  Dane  Stretton,  I  love  you! ' — 
and  all  the  notice  you  took  was  to  kneel  per- 
fectly silent,  with  a  face  as  long  as  your  arm. 
You  never  even  answered  me,  when  I  called 
you  Nicky  by  mistake! " 

I  hadn't  dared.  But  it  was  no  time  to  be 
talking  of  those  things.  Let  alone  that  my 
wet  breeches  had  frozen  till  I  felt  as  if  my  legs 
didn't  belong  to  me,  we  had  landed  exactly 
where  old  Thompson  had  been  drowned.  I 
wanted  to  get  away  from  there,  quickly;  leav- 
ing no  more  trail  than  was  necessary.  I  looked 
round  me  and  saw  how  to  do  it. 

In  front  of  us  was  the  hole  in  the  shore  ice 
and  all  the  smash  and  flurry  where  we  had 
gone  through.  Where  we  had  crawled  on 
shore,  from  under  the  intact  ice  roof,  was  bare 
rock,  wind-swept  clean.  It  struck  me  that 
with  a  little  management,  and  to  a  cursory  in- 
spector, it  could  look  as  though  Paulette  and  I 
were  drowned  like  Thompson.  The  snow  had 
not  piled  on  this  side  the  lake  as  it  had  on  ours. 
Detached  rocks,  few  but  practicable  stepping- 
stones,  lifted  their  bare  bulk  out  of  it,  between 


Lac  Tremblant  279 

us  and  the  spruce  bush  we  had  to  strike  through 
to  avoid  the  Halfway  and  Macartney's  picket. 
Some  kind  of  a  trail  we  must  leave  to  Skunk's 
Misery,  but  it  need  not  begin  here,  in  the  first 
place  Macartney  would  look,  if  he  were  alive  to 
look  anywhere.  Paillette's  eyes  followed  mine 
as  I  thought  it,  and  she  nodded.  It  was  with- 
out a  track  of  any  sort,  after  the  lake  trail 
ended,  that  she  and  I  stopped  in  the  thick 
spruces  and  put  on  our  snowshoes  for  the  last 
lap  of  the  way  to  Skunk's  Misery. 

My  dream  girl's  trained  young  body  served 
her  well.  As  she  stepped  out  after  me,  I 
would  never  have  guessed  she  had  run  a  yard. 
It  was  easy  enough  to  avoid  the  Halfway,  and 
unlikely  that  Macartney's  men  would  ever  dis- 
cover our  devious  track  in  the  thick  bush. 
Crossing  the  Caraquet  road  was  the  only  place 
where  we  had  to  leave  a  track  in  the  open.  I 
did  the  best  I  could  with  it  by  picking  up  Paul- 
ette,  and  carrying  her  and  her  shoes  into  thick 
bush  again ;  but  I  could  not  honestly  feel  much 
pleasure  in  the  result.  Any  one  with  any 
sense  would  know  my  sunken  shoe  marks  had 
carried  double,  but  it  was  the  best  I  could  do. 
It  was  no  pleasure  to  me  either  to  hear  Paul- 
ette  exclaim  sharply,  as  I  set  her  down: 

"  Nicky,  I  -forgot!  Dick  can  snowshoe  after 
us,  if  he's  alive.  Charliet  made  a  lot  of  snow- 
shoes  at  odd  times,  to  sell  in  Quebec  if  he  ever 


280    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

went  back  there.  They  were  piled  up  in  the 
shed  behind  the  kinty,  and  I  believe  Dick  knew 
— though  he  didn't  remember  it  in  time  to  save 
his  men.  If  he  follows  us  I  " — her  lip  curled 
in  fear  and  hatred — "  Oh,  I  hope  he's  dead!  " 

So  did  I.  Yet  somehow  I  had  never  felt  it. 
"  Well,  if  he  isn't,"  I  said  roughly,  "  he'll  have 
to  do  twenty-two  miles  to  catch  up  to  our  five, 
and  then  some  to  Skunk's  Misery.  He 
couldn't  make  good  enough  time  round  the 
lake  to  catch  us  to-night,  supposing  he  knew 
where  we  were  going;  even  on  the  chance  of 
him,  we've  got  to  have  one  night's  rest.  And 
our  only  place  to  find  it  is  Skunk's  Misery! " 

Paulette  nodded  and  stepped  out  after  me 
once  more.  It  was  dead  toil  in  the  soft  snow, 
and  it  was  slow ;  for  Macartney  or  no  Macart- 
ney, there  was  no  making  time  in  the  untrod- 
den bush.  I  cut  our  way  as  short  as  I  dared, 
but  do  the  best  I  could  it  was  dark  when  we 
came  to  that  forlorn,  evil  hollow  in  the  gap  of 
desolate  hills  that  Caraquet  folk  called  Skunk's 
Misery.  That  had  its  points  though,  consider- 
ing we  needed  to  reach  Macartney's  old  lean-to 
unseen,  for  the  Skunk's  Misery  population  was 
in  bed,  and  as  I  said  before,  they  had  no  dogs 
to  bark  at  us.  In  dead  silence,  with  Paulette 
holding  to  my  coat  and  our  snowshoes  under 
our  arms,  we  went  Indian  file  through  the  maze 
of  winding  tracks  Skunk's  Misery  used  for 


Lac  Tremblant  281 

roads,  under  rocks  and  around  them;  and  on 
the  hard-trodden  paths  our  feet  left  no  trace. 
At  least,  I  thought  so:  and  it  was  just  where  I 
slipped  up !  If  I  had  looked  behind  me,  when 
Paulette  would  not  let  me  carry  her  snowshoes, 
I  would  have  seen  the  tails  of  them  dragging  a 
telltale  cut  in  the  snow  behind  her,  as  they 
sagged  from  her  tired  arm.  But  my  eyes  were 
straight  before  me,  on  the  door  of  Macartney's 
lean-to.  It  hung  open,  as  it  had  always  hung, 
but  I  only  glanced  in  to  make  sure  it  was 
empty.  It  was  elsewhere  I  was  going,  around 
the  huge  boulder  that  backed  the  place,  and 
down  a  gully  that  apparently  brought  up 
against  blind  rock — only  I  knew  better.  I 
found  the  opening  of  the  rocky  passage  I  had 
wormed  down  once  before  with  my  back  scrap- 
ing the  living  rock  between  me  and  the  sky, 
and  on  my  hands  and  knees,  with  Paulette 
after  me,  I  went  down  it  again.  It  ended 
without  warning,  just  as  I  had  known  it  would 
end,  in  an  open  cave.  A  glow  of  fire  was 
ahead  of  me ;  and,  stooping  over  it — what  I  had 
never  imagined  I  should  see  with  joy  and  grati- 
tude— the  boy  I  had  left  there,  toasting  a  raw 
rabbit  on  a  stick.  That  was  all  I  saw.  And 
what  possessed  me  I  don't  know,  but  as  I  stood 
up  I  turned  on  Paulette  with  a  sudden  wave  of 
stale  jealousy  overwhelming  me,  and  a  ques- 
tion I  had  kept  back  all  the  afternoon: 


282    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

"  Paulette,  you're  sure — sure — it's  me,  and 
not  Dudley?  That  you  didn't  love  the  poor 
chap  best? " 

Paulette  scrambled  to  her  feet  beside  me. 
"  It's  you,"  she  said  clearly.  "  I  told  you 
Dudley  never  loved  me,  or  I  him.  I'll  mourn 
for  him  always,  for  he  met  his  death  through 
me.  But  he  never  wanted  to  marry  me,  and  if 
he  were  alive,  he'd  be  the  first  person  to  tell 
you  so! " 

There  was  a  pause,  definite,  distinct,  while 
you  could  count  five.  The  boy  at  the  fire 
started  to  frozen  attention  at  sight  of  us,  as 
sharply  as  his  distorted  body  could  start.  But 
before  he  could  speak,  or  I  did,  another  voice 
answered  Paulette's  from  the  dark  of  the  cave 
behind  the  fire, — an  unexpected,  mind-shatter- 
ing voice,  that  took  me  toward  it  with  one 
bound.  "  By  gad,"  it  said,  "  he  would,  would 
he?  Two  things  have  to  go  to  that! " 

I  stood  paralyzed  where  I  had  jumped. 
Paulette's  snowshoes  dropped  clattering  on  the 
cave  floor.  Dudley  Wilbraham,  whom  the 
wolves  had  eaten — little,  fat,  with  a  face  more 
like  an  egg  than  ever,  but  whole  and  alive— 
stood  in  the  dimness  of  the  cave  behind  the  fire 
and  my  Skunk's  Misery  boy ! 


CHAPTER  XIX 

SKUNK'S  MISERY 

PAULETTE  said,  "  Oh  my  heavens,  Dudley! " 
and  went  straight  to  pieces. 

I  don't  know  that  I  made  much  of  a  job  of 
being  calm  myself.  All  I  could  get  out  was, 
"  The  wolves !  We  thought  they'd  eaten  you 
— Paulette  found  your  cap  out  by  the  Cara- 
quet  road." 

Dudley,  for  whom  the  whole  of  La  Chance 
had  beaten  the  bush  all  one  livelong  night, 
whom  his  own  sister  had  sworn  was  killed  and 
eaten,  Dudley  made  the  best  show  of  the  three. 
He  had  a  flask,  of  course, — when  had  he  not? 
He  dosed  Paulette  and  me  with  what  was  left 
in  it,  but  even  with  the  whisky  limbering  my 
parched  throat  I  hadn't  sense  to  ask  a  coherent 
question.  Dudley  looked  from  Paulette  to  me 
and  spoke  pretty  collectedly  to  both  of  us. 

"  I  wasn't  eaten,  if  that's  what  brought  you 
two  here — though  judging  from  your  conver- 
sation I  imagine  it  wasn't.  Thank  the  Lord 
you  are  here  though,  anyway.  I've  been 


284    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

pretty  wild,  tied  up  here  with  this  snow. 
But " — sharply — "  where  the  devil's  Mar- 
cia?" 

"  Hidden  away  from  Macartney,  with  Char- 
liet  to  look  after  her."  It  was  all  I  could 
bring  myself  to  say,  except  that  she  thought 
Dudley  was  dead. 

"  Does  Macartney  think  so  too?  "  the  corpse 
demanded. 

"  He  worked  hard  enough  to  feel  safe  in 
thinking  it,"  I  returned  bitterly,  and  came  out 
with  the  whole  story.  How  Macartney  said 
the  wolves  had  howled  around  the  shack  till 
their  noise  drove  Dudley  distracted,  and  he 
had  slipped  out  after  them  unnoticed,  with  a 
gun;  that  Macartney,  the  two  girls  and  half 
the  men  had  gone  to  look  for  him,  when  he 
never  returned,  till  Paulette  found  his  wolf- 
doped  cap  torn  up  by  the  Caraquet  road,  and 
Marcia  found  him,  in  the  bush — unrecogniz- 
able but  for  what  rags  of  his  sable-lined  coat 
were  left  on  his  body.  And  Dudley's  hard- 
boiled  egg  face  never  changed  with  one  word 
of  it. 

"  So  that  was  how  it.  was  worked,"  he  re- 
flected quite  composedly.  "And  Macartney 
thinks  it  was  I  Marcia  found!  Well,  it 
wasn't — though  I  daresay  it  was  my  coat,  all 
right,  just  as  it  was  my  cap  Paulette  picked  up 
by  the  road.  But  it  damn  well  would  have 


Skunk's  Misery  285 

been  me,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  " — he  paused 
casualty,  and  pointed  behind  him — "  Baker." 

"  Baker!  That  good-for-nothing  devil  who 
was  always  trailing  after  yc-u?  Why,  Macart- 
ney said "  but  I  remembered  Macartney 

had  only  said  Baker  was  missing,  too.  I 
wheeled  on  the  dimness  of  the  inside  cave  and 
saw  what  I  had  missed  in  my  flurry  over  Dud- 
ley. A  second  man — white-faced,  black-eye- 
browed,  slim  looking — was  standing  just  where 
the  fire  glow  did  not  reach  him,  staring  at  Paul- 
ette  and  me.  I  said,  "  Land  of  love,  Baker! " 
And  I  may  be  forgiven  if  I  swore. 

Baker  nodded  as  undramatically  as  Dudley. 
*  Yes,  it  was  me.  I  had  sense  enough  all 
along  to  guess  Macartney  was  going  to  finish 
Mr.  Wilbraham  with  the  wolf  dope  he'd  tried 
out  on  you,  if  the  rest  of  the  gang  hadn't. 
And  I  wouldn't  stand  for  sculduddeiy  like 
that,  for  one  thing;  and  for  another  I  thought 
I'd  come  out  better  in  the  end  by  sticking  to 
the  boss,  like  you  seen  me  doing  often  enough ! 
So  I  just  told  him  he  was  being  lain  for  and 
brought  him  out  here.  I  knew  this  cave  was 
safe,  for  I  lived  here  two  months  before  me 
and  the  rest  of  us  dribbled  into  La  Chance. 
And  I  knew  the  Halfway  wasn't — for  the  two 
men  who  turned  Billy  Jones  out  of  it,  with  a 
sham  letter  from  the  boss,  were  the  two  who 
drowned  old  Thompson!  I've  played  honest 


286    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

in  my  way,  Mr.  Stretton,  if  you  never  thought 
so." 

"  Shut  up,"  Dudley  interrupted  him  indig- 
nantly. "  I'd  be  where  Marcia  thought  she 
found  me,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you.  Listen, 
Stretton !  I  got  fussy  after  you  left  for  Billy 
Jones's  that  afternoon;  I'd  been  hitting  it  up 
the  day  before,  and  you  know  how  that  leaves 
me!  I  didn't  see  why  in  blazes  I  hadn't  gone 
with  you  to  Billy's  instead  of  sitting  around 
the  house,  and  a  couple  of  hours  after  you  left 
I  started  out  to  get  a  horse  and  follow  you. 
But  it's  a  lie  that  I  heard  wolves,  or  thought  of 
them :  there  wasn't  one  around  the  place.  Ma- 
cartney wasn't  around,  either.  I  guess  he  was 
out  in  the  bush  fixing  up  the  wolf-baited 
ground  that  was  to  get  me,  for  he'd  fixed  up 
my  coat  and  cap  with  it  before  he  started.  I 
thought  something  smelt  like  the  devil  when  I 
put  them  on,  but  I  never  guessed  it  was  my 
own  things.  I  went  out  to  the  stable  just  as 
I  might  on  any  other  day,  only  nobody  hap- 
pened to  see  me  go,  and  right  there  I  ran  on 
Baker.  I  told  him  to  come  for  a  ride  with  me, 
but  he  didn't  seem  to  think  much  of  the  horse 
racket ;  said  he  knew  a  short  cut  to  Billy's,  and 
it  would  be  better  for  my  head  if  we  just 
walked.  It  was  Baker  told  me  the  devilish 
reek  I  smelled  was  coming  from  my  own  coat, 
and  I  chucked  it  down  by  the  stable  door.  God 


Skunk's  Misery  287 

knows  which  of  Macartney's  men  picked  it  up 
and  wore  it  after  I  left  it,  for  Marcia  to  find," 
even  Dudley  looked  sick,  "  but  it  wasn't  me! 
I  smelt  my  cap,  too,  after  I'd  walked  some  of 
the  muzziness  out  of  me,  and  I  threw  that 
away — where  Paulette  found  it.  We  didn't 
leave  a  sign  of  a  track,  of  course;  it  was  long 
before  there  was  any  snow.  If  I'd  known  why 
Baker  had  me  out  there,  walking  away  from 
La  Chance,  I'd  have  turned  back  and  defied 
Macartney,  or  I'd  never  have  started.  But  it 
wasn't  till  it  was  black  dark,  and  I'd  walked 
enough  sense  into  myself  to  ask  why  we  were 
not  getting  to  Billy  Jones's,  that  Baker  took 
his  life  in  his  hands — for  you  may  bet  I  was 
fighting  mad  at  having  seemed  to  run  away — 
and  told  me  that  you  and  I  and  all  of  us  were 
in  a  trap  that  was  going  to  spring  and  get  us, 
and  give  Macartney  our  mine.  He  let  out 
about  Thompson's  murder,  and  you  and  the 
wolf  dope;  and  that  Macartney'd  kicked  Billy 
Jones  out  of  the  Halfway  with  a  forged  dis- 
missal from  me,  and  had  his  own  men  waiting 
there  to  get  you  while  he  limed  the  bush  and 
my  cap  and  coat,  for  the  wolves  to  get  me. 
And  you  know  I'd  have  been  dead  sure  to  go 
out  after  them  with  a  gun,  just  as  he  said  I  did, 
if  I'd  heard  them  come  yowling  around  the 
shack  while  I  was  in  it!  I'd  have  gone  back 
to  face  Macartney,  even  then,  only Well, 


288    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

you've  had  experience  of  Macartney's  wolves, 
and  you'd  know  I  couldn't!  We  could  hear 
the  row  they  were  making  even  where  we 
stood,  miles  away.  We  set  off  on  the  dead  run 
for  Caraquet  and  help,  but  we  had  to  break  the 
journey  somewhere.  We  couldn't  face  Ma- 
cartney's men  at  Billy's,  for  neither  of  us  had 
a  gun — and  that's  another  lie  to  Macartney — 
and  it  was  no  good  leaving  the  devil  to  run  into 
hell.  So  Baker  brought  me  here." 

"But,"  I  gasped,  "I  don't  see  how  you 
missed  me !  I  was  here,  too,  that  night !  " 

'  Well,  we  weren't — till  the  morning,"  Dud- 
ley snapped  in  his  old  way.  "  It  was  just  be- 
ginning to  snow  when  we  crawled  down  the 
burrow  you'd  crawled  out  of  and  found  this 
place — and  your  boy." 

"  But  I  told  him D'ye  mean  he  just 

let  you  find  him?  " 

"  He  did  not,"  grimly.  "  He  was  hidden 
away  somewhere,  and  I  don't  suppose  he'd 
ever  have  come  out,  if  I  hadn't  happened  to  use 
what  seems  to  have  been  your  password!  I 
said  out  loud  that  I'd  give  twenty  dollars  to 
any  one  who'd  get  me  some  food;  and  out 
comes  your  friend,  and  says  you  told  him  to 
trust  any  one  who  said  that,  and  where  was  the 
twenty?  So,  after  that,  we  settled  down!  " 

"But "  Dudley's  selfishness  had  al- 
ways been  colossal,  yet  this  time  it  beat  even 


Skunk's  Misery 


me.  '  What  did  you  suppose  was  going  to 
become  of  your  sister  and  Paulette — left 
with  Macartney  when  you'd  disappeared, 
and  the  Halfway  picket  had  got  me? "  I 
burst  out. 

"  My  acquaintance  with  you  made  me  hope- 
ful they  wouldn't  get  you,"  Dudley  began 

drily,  "  and  as  for  the  girls "  but  his  sham 

indifference  broke  down.  "  Don't  talk  of  it, 
will  you? "  he  bellowed.  "  I  did  think  you'd 
be  all  right,  but  I  was  in  hell  for  those  girls  till 
I  could  get  to  Caraquet  and  take  back  help  for 
them!  Only  this  cursed  snow  stopped  me. 
We  had  to  wait  till  it  was  packed  enough  for 
Baker  to  sneak  down  to  the  Halfway  and  steal 
a  couple  of  my  own  horses,  for  us  to  ride  to 
Caraquet.  But  that's  how  I'm  here — and  how 
Marcia  found  a  half-eaten  man  in  my  top-coat, 
that  she  thought  was  me !  " 

I  was  speechless.  It  was  all  so  simple,  even 
to  Dudley's  twenty  dollars  and  my  boy.  But 
before  I  could  say  so,  Dudley  turned  on  me 
with  his  old  vicious  pounce.  '  Why  in  blazes 
don't  you  tell  me  what  you  left  Marcia  for, 
after  bullying  me  because  I  did?  And  why  are 
you  and  Paulette  here,  if  you  thought  I  was 
killed?" 

'  We  left  her  because  we  had  to,  with  a 
thousand  tons  of  earth  between  us  and  the  only 
way  we  could  have  got  back  to  her  alive,"  said 


290    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

I  wrathfully.  "  And  as  for  why  we're  here," 
— I  poured  out  the  whole  story  of  my  return 
to  La  Chance,  from  Dudley's  own  funeral  pro- 
cession that  met  me  and  my  bootless  fight  with 
Macartney,  to  the  resurrection  of  Collins  and 
Dunn,  and  Paulette's  and  my  race  across  Lac 
Tremblant.  I  left  out  Marcia's  share  in  my 
defeat,  but  Dudley  gave  a  comprehending 
sniff. 

"  Marcia  always1  was  a  fool  'about  Macartney  1 
But  it's  no  matter,  since  she  isn't  with  him — 
whether  he's  alive  or  dead.  Only  you  were  a 
worse  fool,  Stretton,  to  cross  that  lake  with  a 
girl  in  tow.  I  don't  know  why  you  weren't 

both  drowned,  like  Thompson "  but  his 

voice  broke.  He  was  a  good  little  man,  under 
his  bad  habits,  or  he  never  would  have  done 
what  he  had  for  Paulette.  He  muttered  some- 
thing about  all  the  decent  men  who'd  met  their 
death  because  he  wouldn't  listen  to  Paulette 
when  she  tried  to  tell  him  the  truth  about  Ma- 
cartney, damned  him  up  and  down,  and  turned 
to  Paulette  with  a  sweet  sort  of  roughness: 

"  You  look  done  up,  my  girl !  Here,  get 
down  by  the  fire  and  eat  what  our  chef's  got 
ready ! "  For  the  crippled  boy  had  gone  on 
with  his  cooking,  regardless  of  the  talk  round 
him,  and  his  rabbit  was  done. 

But  Paulette  never  looked  at  the  food  Dud- 
ley held  out  to  her.  "  You're  not  angry,  Dud- 


Skunk's  Misery  291 

ley?"  she  asked  very  low.  "I  mean — for 
what  I  said  to  Nicky  as  we  came  in?  " 

"  I  was,"  but  Dudley  grinned  in  the  half 
dark.  "  It  was  true  enough,  only  nobody  likes 
to  hear  their  own  obituary.  But  I  knew  about 
Stretton  long  ago,  if  you  hadn't  the  sense  to! 
You  take  him,  my  child,  and  my  blessing. 
God  knows  I  never  asked  you  to  marry  an  old 
soak  like  me! " 

He  shoved  Paulette's  hand  into  mine  and 
stared  at  the  two  of  us  for  a  second.  Then — 
"  By  gad,"  he  added,  in  a  different  voice,  "  I 
hope  Macartney's  got  drowned,  or  he  may 
walk  in  on  the  lot  of  us!  " 

"  How?  "  I  demanded  scornfully.  "  He 
couldn't  do  thirty-two  miles  in  the  time  Paul- 
ette  and  I  did  fifteen,  even  if  he  knew  where  to 
do  it  to!" 

"  He  doesn't  have  to,  my  young  son,"  Dud- 
ley stood  musing  on  it.  "  Baker  and  I  didn't 
do  any  twenty,  coming  here;  and  it  was  Ma- 
cartney's own  path  we  came  by.  That  doesn't 
go  round  by  any  Halfway!  If  he  takes  a 
fancy  to  come  here  by  it,  and  strikes  your 
tracks  as  you  two  came  into  Skunk's  Misery, 
the  rest  wouldn't  take  him  long!  I  believe — 
hang  on  a  minute,  while  I  speak  to  Baker!" 
He  wheeled  suddenly  and  disappeared  into  the 
dark  of  the  cave  where  Baker  stood  aloof. 

"  You  needn't  worry  about  Macartney,"  I 


292    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery- 
said  to   Paulette.      ;<  We   didn't   leave   any 
tracks,  once  we  got  into  broken  snow !  " 

I  turned  at  a  rustle  behind  me  and  looked 
straight  into  the  muzzle  of  Macartney's  re- 
volver and  into  Macartney's  eyes ! 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  END 

THE  boy  at  the  fire  let  out  a  yelp  and 
dropped  flat.  Dudley  and  Baker,  invisible 
somewhere,  neither  spoke  nor  stirred.  And  I 
stood  like  a  fool,  as  near  the  death  of  Nicholas 
Dane  Stretton  as  ever  I  wish  to  get. 

But  Macartney  only  stood  there,  looking  so 
much  as  usual  that  I  guessed  he  must  have 
rested  outside  the  mouth  of  our  burrow  before 
he  wormed  down  to  tackle  me. 

'  You  wouldn't  have  left  any  tracks,"  he 
said,  picking  up  what  I'd  just  said  in  his  every- 
day manner,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  dog's 
grin  he  always  wore  when  he  was  angry,  "  if 
I  hadn't  run  on  single  snowshoe  tracks  carry- 
ing double,  where  you  crossed  the  Caraquet 
road.  And  if  one  of  you  hadn't  trailed  your 
shoe  tails  through  Skunk's  Misery  —  that 
doesn't  wear  them! " 

"  How  did  you  get  here?  "  said  I  slowly,  be- 
cause I  was  calculating  my  spring  to  Macart- 
ney's gun  hand. 

"  I  walked,"  and  I  thought  he  had  not  no- 


294    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

ticed  I  was  half  a  step  nearer  him.  "  If  you 
meant  me  to  drown  myself  following  you  over 
your  lake,  I  didn't — thanks  to  the  kind  warn- 
ing you  made  of  my  men.  But  I  didn't  im- 
agine you'd  drowned  yourselves  either — after 
I  looked  through  a  field  glass!  Charliet  had 
plenty  of  snowsMoes  cached  away;  I  was  al- 
ways quick  on  my  feet ;  and  after  I  struck  your 
track  the  rest  was  simple — especially  as  you 

were  fool  enough  to  bring  a  girl  here.  I " 

but  his  level  voice  was  suddenly  thick  with  pas- 
sion. "  Get  back!  If  you  try  to  grab  my  gun 
I'll  shoot  you,  and  your  boy  too,  like  dogs! 
You'll  stay  still  and  listen — to  what  I've  to  say. 
I've  an  account  to  settle  with  you,  Stretton; 
now  that  I've  cleaned  up  Dudley's,  and  he's 
dead!" 

You  could  have  heard  a  pin  drop  on  the  dead 
silence  of  that  underground  hole.  Neither 
Dudley  nor  Baker  stirred,  and  it  hit  me  like  a 
hammer  that  Macartney  didn't  know  they 
were  alive ;  he  didn't  know! 

I  stood  as  though  I  had  been  struck  dumb; 
so  did  Paulette.  Neither  of  us  even  flickered 
an  eyelash  toward  the  shadows  behind  us, 
where  Dudley  must  be  crouching,  anything  but 
dead,  with  Baker  beside  him.  Perhaps  it 
struck  both  of  us,  simultaneously,  that  Dudley 
had  heard  Macartney  coming  before  we  did 
and  disappeared  on  purpose,  thinking  Macart- 


The  End  295 

ney  might  speak  naked  truth  to  Paulette  and 
myself,  where  he  would  have  varnished  it  up  to 
a  mysteriously  resurrected  employer  whom  he 
might  yet  bamboozle  as  he  always  had  bam- 
boozled him.  Anyhow,  neither  of  us  saw  fit 
to  give  Dudley  away.  Macartney  sneered  into 
our  silent  faces. 

"  There's  not  much  fight  in  you,"  he  com- 
mented contemptuously.  ;<  Though  it  was 
never  any  good  to  try  to  fight  me !  If  you  like 
to  have  it  in  black  and  white,  I've  been  all 
the  brains  of  the  business  here — single-handed  1 
It  was  I  got  the  secret  of  the  wolf  bait  from 
the  mother  of  your  lame  friend  here,"  he 
pointed  with  his  unoccupied  hand  to  my  grov- 
elling boy,  "  when  first  I  followed  Paulette 
out  from  New  York  and  laid  up  in  Skunk's 
Misery  to  wait  till  I  had  a  clear  way  to  get  to 
La  Chance.  That  old  ass  Thompson  gave  me 
that,  when  I  scooped  him  up  on  the  road. 
After  I'd  used  him,  two  of  my  men  drowned 
him  in  Lac  Tremblant — and  you'd  never  have 
guessed  a  word  about  it,  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
his  cursed  card  they  overlooked  in  the  shack 
here,  where  you  found  it.  It  was  I  put  that 
bottle  in  your  wagon  the  day  it  broke  there.  I 
did  it  before  I  knew  Paulette  was  going  to 
drive  with  you;  that  was  the  only  thing  in  the 
whole  business  that  ever  gave  me  a  scare!  It 
was  I  got  rid  of  Collins  and  Dunn  " — I  saw 


296    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

that  he  believed  it,  just  as  he  believed  he  was 
rid  of  Dudley — "  and  the  most  of  your  men 
who  might  have  stuck  by  you  if  it  came  to  a 
fight  for  the  mine.  I  had  to  shoot  the  last  four 
of  them,  as  you  didn't  find  out  that  night  in  the 
assay  office!  I  baited  the  bush  that  rid  me  of 
Dudley  Wilbraham,  with  his  yells  about  emer- 
alds and  hunting  down  Thompson's  murderer ; 
and  I've  got  your  and  his  mine,  in  spite  of  your 
blowing  up  and  drowning  all  the  men  I  meant 
to  hold  it  with.  But  you  found  out  most  of 
that,  even  if  it  was  a  little  late.  What  you 
didn't  find  out,  or  Dudley  either,  was  that  he 
was  right  about  Van  Ruyne's  emeralds!  " 

Paulette  leapt  up  like  a  wildcat.  '  You 
mean  you  took  them?  " 

"  I  took  them,"  he  nodded  sneeringly,  and  I 
saw  her  eyes  blaze.  "  I  took  them — to  get  you 
into  a  hole  you'd  have  to  come  to  me  to  get 
out  of!" 

"  But  I  didn't  have  to  come  to  you!    I  — 
but  she  spoke  with  sudden  cutting  deliberation. 
"  I  don't  believe  you.     You  were  never  in  the 
Houstons'  house  that  night.     I  should  have 
seen  you." 

"Oh,  seen  me!"  Macartney  grinned.  I 
think  the  two  of  them  forgot  me,  forgot  every- 
thing but  that  they  were  facing  each  other  at 
last  with  the  masks  off.  I  know  neither  of 
them  heard  a  slow,  creeping,  nearing  sound  in 


The  End  297 

the  long  burrow  behind  Macartney,  a  sound 
that  swung  my  blood  up  with  the  wild,  furious 
hope  that  Collins  and  Dunn — anyhow  Collins 
—was  hot  on  Macartney's  trail,  as  Macartney 
had  been  on  Paulette's  and  mine,  and  was 
creeping  down  the  burrow  behind  him  now, 
ready  to  take  him  in  the  rear  when  I  jumped  at 
him  from  the  front.  I  waited  till  whoever  it 
was  came  close  up;  waited  for  the  moment 
to  grab  Macartney,  watching  his  triumphant, 
passionate  eyes  as  he  stared  victoriously  at 
Paulette. 

"  Seen  me? "  he  repeated,  and  I  hoped  the 
sound  of  his  own  voice  would  deafen  him  to 
that  other  sound,  that  was  so  loud  to  me. 
"  You  saw  the  Houstons'  guests,  and  their 
servants!  You  never  thought  of  seeing  the 
expert  who  was  down  from  New  York  about 
the  heating  of  Mrs.  Houston's  new  orchid 
houses!  I  left  the  real  man  dead  drunk  in 
New  York,  in  a  place  he  wouldn't  leave  in  a 
hurry;  and  the  week-end  you  spent  at  the 
Houstons'  I,  and  my  plans,  had  the  run  of 
Mrs.  Houston's  library,  that  neither  she  nor 
any  one  else  ever  goes  into.  And,"  he  laughed 
outright,  "  it  was  next  your  sitting  room,  open- 
ing on  the  same  upstairs  balcony !  I  had  only 
to  put  my  hand  through  an  open  window  to 
scoop  Van  Ruyne's  emeralds  out  of  their  case 
while  you  had  your  back  turned,  writing  the 


298    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

note  you  sent  outside  the  case,  instead  of  in- 
side! Remember?  "  But  this  time  he  did  not 
laugh.  "  I  missed  fire  about  getting  you  that 
night,  thanks  to  that  fool  Wilbraham  happen- 
ing round  with  his  car.  But  now  I'll  take  all 
I  did  this  whole  business  for — and  that's 
you, — Paulette  Valenka!" 

Paulette  never  took  her  eyes  from  him. 
"  That's  a  lie,"  she  said  quite  evenly.  "  Oh, 
not  that  you  took  the  emeralds ;  I  believe  that. 
But  it  was  not  only  to  get  me  into  trouble.  It 
was  for  themselves!  You  had  to  steal  some- 
thing. You  hadn't  one  penny." 

"  Not  then!  "  Even  in  the  gloom  I  saw  two 
scarlet  spots  flare  out  like  sealing-wax  on  the 
always  dead  blondeness  of  Macartney's  cheeks. 
I  thought  I  could  hear  his  heart  beat  where  I 
stood.  "But  I  have  now!  With  the  emer- 
alds, your  late  friend  Dudley's  mine,  and  you," 
— his  voice  was  unspeakably,  insultingly  sig- 
nificant, but  that  unheard  rustle  behind  him, 
growing  nearer,  more  unmistakable,  kept  me 
motionless.  "  By  heaven,  a  man  might  call 
himself  rich!  Did  you  suppose  Stretton  here 
could  fight  me?  Why,  I've  been  the  secret 
wolf  he  never  had  the  nous  to  guess  at! 

I "  he  swung  around  on  me  like  light,  his 

revolver  six  inches  from  my  ear.  "  Stand 
there,"  he  shouted  at  me,  "  and  die  like  Wil- 
braham, you " 


The  End  299 

His  hand  dropped,  his  jaw  fell  with  the  half- 
spoken  words  in  it;  his  eyes,  all  pupils,  stared 
over  my  shoulder.  I  turned  and  saw  Dudley, — 
Dudley,  silent,  watching  us  both ;  saw  him  even 
before  I  grabbed  the  gun  out  of  Macartney's 
hanging,  lax  hand.  But  Macartney  never  so 
much  as  felt  me  do  it.  He  stared  paralyzed  at 
Dudley — little,  fat,  with  a  face  like  a  hard- 
boiled  egg — standing  silent  against  the  dark  of 
the  inner  cave. 

Dudley  had  a  nerve  when  you  came  through 
to  it.  "  I've  not  died,  yet,"  he  snarled  out 
suddenly. 

I  had  the  only  gun  in  the  place  and  the  drop 
on  Macartney;  but  I  never  stirred.  That 
long-heard  rustle  in  the  burrow  was  close  on 
me:  was — 

"  My  God,  Marcia ! "  said  I.  I  never  even 
wondered  about  Collins  and  Dunn  letting  her 
get  away.  Marcia  stood  up  in  the  entrance 
from  the  burrow,  panting,  purple-faced,  ex- 
hausted. Marcia  sprang  to  Macartney — not 
Dudley,  I  doubt  if  she  even  saw  Dudley — with 
a  cry  out  of  her  very  soul. 

"  Mack,  you're  not  Hutton — you  never  took 
those  emeralds — and  for  that  girl!  Say  it's 
a  lie,  and  it's  /  you  love !  Mack,  say  you  love 
me  still!" 

Macartney  flung  back  a  mechanical  hand 
and  swept  her  away  from  him  like  a  fly.  She 


300    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

fell  and  lay  there.  None  of  us  had  said  a 
word  since  Dudley  came  out  and  faced  Ma- 
cartney. None  of  us  said  a  word  now. 
I  saw,  almost  indifferently,  Collins  burst 
out  of  the  burrow  behind  Macartney,  as 
Marcia  had  burst  out,  and  grab  me.  "  S  tret- 
ton,"  he  gasped,  "  thank  God — found  your 
tracks.  But  that  she-devil  Marcia  got  away 

from  me,  and But  in  his  turn  he  jerked 

taut  where  he  stood,  at  sight  of  Dudley,  and 
stood  speechless. 

But  I  never  looked  at  him.  I  looked  at 
nothing  but  Macartney's  face.  j 

It  was  rigid,  as  if  it  were  a  mask  that  had 
frozen  on  him.  The  sealing-wax  scarlet  on  his 
cheeks  had  gone  out  like  a  turned-out  lamp. 
His  eyes  went  from  Dudley  to  Collins  and 
back  again,  as  if  they  were  the  only  living  part 
of  his  deathly  face. 

"Ah,"  said  Macartney,  "A-ah!"  He 
dropped  on  the  floor  all  in  one  piece,  like  a 
cut-down  tree. 

Collins  made  a  plunge  for  him.  I  sent  Col- 
lins reeling. 

"  Let  him  alone,  you  young  fool,"  I  swore. 
"  We've  got  him,  and  he's  fainted.  I've  seen 
him  like  this  before — the  night  he  shot  our  own 
men  in  the  assay  office.  It's  only  his  old  faint- 
ing fits." 

"  It's  his  new  death,"  said  Dudley,  quite 


The  End  301 

quietly.  He  came  forward  and  bent  over  Ma- 
cartney, laid  a  hand  on  his  breast.  "  Can't 
you  see  the  man's  gone,  Stretton?  It  killed 
him:  the  run  here — the  shock  of  seeing  me. 
He  must  have  had  a  heart  like  rotten  quartz!  " 

Paulette,  Collins,  Baker,  all  of  us,  stood 
there  blankly.  We  had  not  struck  a  blow,  or 
raised  a  voice  among  the  whole  lot  of  us;  Ma- 
cartney's gun  was  still  warm  from  his  grasp 
whence  I  had  snatched  it;  and  Macartney — 
the  secret  wolf  at  La  Chance,  masquerader, 
thief,  murderer — lay  dead  at  our  feet.  I 
heard  myself  say  out  loud:  "  His  heart  was 
rotten:  that  was  why  he  fainted  in  the  assay 
office.  But Oh,  the  man  was  mad  be- 
sides! He  must  have  been."  And  over  my 
words  came  another  voice.  It  was  Marcia's, 
and  it  made  me  sick. 

"  Macartney,"  she  was  screaming,  "  Macart- 
ney ! "  She  ran  round  and  round  like  a  hen 
in  a  road,  before  me,  Dudley,  all  of  us;  then 
flung  herself  on  her  brother  as  if  she  had  only 
just  realized  him.  '  You're  alive — you're  not 
dead !  Can't  you  see  he  never  stole  any  emer- 
alds nor  loved  that  girl,  any  more  than  he 
killed  you?  You  made  up  lies  about  him,  all 
of  you!  And  you  stand  here  doing  nothing 

for  him.  He Oh,  Mack,  speak  to  me! 

Mack! " 

She  sprang  to  Macartney;  dropped  on  her 


302    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

knees  by  the  dead,  handsome  length  of  him; 
tore  open  his  coat  and  shirt.  But  she  knelt 
there,  rigid,  with  her  hand  on  his  quiet  heart. 

Macartney  had  never  stolen  Van  Ruyne's 
emeralds:  she  had  just  said  it.  There,  around 
Macartney's  bared  throat,  lying  on  the  white 
skin  of  his  chest,  green  lights  in  the  dull  fire- 
glow  of  the  cave,  were  Van  Ruyne's  emeralds, 
that  Paulette  Brown — whose  real  name  was 
Tatiana  Paulina  Valenka — had  never  seen  or 
touched  since  she  put  them  back  into  Van 
Ruyne's  velvet  case! 

I  will  say  Marcia  Wilbraham  knew  when 
she  was  beaten.  She  cowered  back  to  Dudley 
and  began  to  cry;  but  it  was  with  her  arms 
round  his  neck.  And  the  fat  little  man  held 
her  to  his  queer,  kind  heart.  I  turned  my  back 

sharply  on  the  pair  of  them,  and My 

eyes  met  Paulette's ! 

There  would  be  all  sorts  of  fuss  and  unpleas- 
antness to  go  through  with  the  sheriff  from 
Caraquet,  over  what  was  left  of  Macartney; 
there  was  old  Thompson's  death  to  be  ac- 
counted for;  Van  Ruyne's  emeralds  to  be  re- 
turned to  him,  so  that  Tatiana  Paulina 
Valenka,  and  not  Paulette  Brown,  could 
marry  that  lucky,  Indian-dark  fool  who  was 
Xicky  Stretton.  There  was  Dudley's  mine, 
too,  all  safe  again,  and  such  an  incredible  mine 
that  even  I  would  be  passably  rich  out  of  it, — 


The  End  303 

but  I  barely,  just  barely,  thought  of  all  those 
things.  My  dream  girl's  blue  eyes  were  like 
stars  in  mine,  under  the  burnt  gold  of  her  silk- 
soft  hair.  The  clear  carnation  rose  in  her 
cheeks  as  I  looked  at  her,  where  she  stood  close 
to  me,  all  mine,  as  I  had  always  dreamed  she 
would  be, — till  I  met  her  and  was  sick  with 
doubt  of  it.  She  was  mine!  As  far  as  I  was 
concerned,  this  story  had  ended  at  Skunk's 
Misery, — where  it  had  begun,  if  I  had  only 
guessed  it.  I  gave  an  honest  start  as  Collins 
jogged  my  elbow. 

"  We  can't  stay  here,  with  that"  he  whis- 
pered, nodding  at  Macartney.  "  What  do 
you  think  about  getting  out  of  this?  We  could 
leave — him — here,  with  Baker  and  the  boy  for 
a  guard,  till  we  can  get  the  Caraquet  people  to 
come  and  see  him.  We've  our  snowshoes,  and 
mine  and  the  girls',  besides  Macartney's,  that  I 
guess  he's  done  with.  I  think  we  could  man- 
age along  as  far  as  the  Halfway  in  the  morn- 
ing, if  we  made  a  travois  of  boughs  for  Wil- 
braham ! " 

"But,"  I  stared  at  him,  "Macartney's 
picket's  there! " 

"  Oh,  Charliet  and  Dunn  were  going  to  clear 
them  out  with  Miss  Wilbraham's  rifle,  while  I 
got  after  her,  when  she  broke  away  on  to  Ma- 
cartney's track  here,"  Collins  returned  calmly. 
"I  expect  that's  all  right,  and  they've  run. 


304    The  La  Chance  Mine  Mystery 

Anyhow,  you've  got  Macartney's  gun!    You 
can  go  ahead  and  see." 

But  I  had  no  need  to.  An  abandoned  picket 
has  a  way  of  knowing  when  the  game  is  up,  and 
Macartney's  men  had  cleared  out  on  the 
double,  even  before  Charliet's  first  rifle  bullet 
missed  them.  We  caught  them  afterwards, 
half  dead  in  the  bush, — but  that  doesn't  come 
in  here.  I  walked  into  the  Halfway  with  my 
dream  girl  beside  me,  and  both  of  us  jumped 
as  Dudley  suddenly  poked  his  pig-eyed  face 
between  us. 

'  You  needn't  hop,  you  two,"  he  commented 
irritably;  "  you  can  have  your  Old  Nick,  Paul- 
ette,  for  all  me !  What  I'm  thinking  of 's  that 
boy — and  Baker!  I  guess  they  saved  my  life 
all  right  between  them,  and  I'm  going  to  set 
them  up  for  what's  left  of  theirs.  Got  any- 
thing to  say  against  that,  hey? "  with  his  old 
snarl. 

"  Not  much,"  I  returned  soberly.  But 
Paulette  clasped  both  Dudley's  podgy  hands 
in  hers. 

"  Oh,  dear  Dudley,"  she  said  softly.  But 
there  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 

I  know;  for  I  kissed  them  away  afterwards, 
when  we  were  alone. 

THE  END 


000114413     8 


